


All the Wrong Reasons, or Just Left of Normal: Part II

by a_hemmen



Series: Just Left of Normal Series [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha!Steve, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bucky still has some problems, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Bucky Barnes, Omega!Bucky, Part 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:12:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_hemmen/pseuds/a_hemmen
Summary: Steve had given up on relationships, given up on ever finding anyone out there for /him/. So, when Sam asks him if he'd be willing to help omegas out during their heat, he says yes. Enter: Bucky Barnes. 
This tells the story of Just Left of Normal from Steve's POV, and then explains what happens after.
Also: see my full list of works on my author page OR at here





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... I know that I acted like I wouldn't be posting for a while... but... then your guys' comments were all so nice... I just couldn't help myself. I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update this, but I already have most of the story planned out, so hopefully I can keep up on writing relatively regularly! 
> 
> Comments are the lifeblood that keep me writing! (*hint hint, nudge nudge*)

The city is beautiful this time of the morning. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but the rays are just beginning to peak over the tops and in between buildings. The air is cold, but it feels good. Steve’s always enjoyed running in the cold more than the warm. His whole body gets too hot too quickly, and he just can’t keep up the pace that he wants. 

Steve can hear Sam’s huffing as he comes up behind his friend. Sam _does not_ enjoy running in the cold. 

“On you left,” he passes his friend, pretty sure that he hears a muffled “Goddammit” between the huffs. 

When they’re finished with their run, Sam practically falls onto the ground, still heaving for breath. His shirt is just as sweat-stained as Steve’s, but Sam can barely walk in a straight line, while Steve’s breathing is almost back to completely normal. “How the fuck do you do that, man. You’re not _that_ much more in shape than me.” 

“Hard work and dedication.” Steve smirks as his friend tries--and fails--to throw his water bottle at him. 

“Fuck that, Steve. I run just as often as you do.” They pick up their things and start walking to the nearby diner they frequent after runs. 

They take a seat, and order. When the waitress brings their food, Sam looks at Steve’s plates of food in disgust. “You know that your metabolism is _not_ normal, right? Like, at all.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not going to complain about it.” 

“Asshole.” 

Steve barrels full speed into his food, while Sam politely picks at his own. 

“Have you sold any more paintings recently?” 

“A couple small ones, but nothing really worth mentioning.” He starts, in between bites of food. “Pretty soon I’m going to have to ask for more hours at work. Three nights a week is not going to pay my rent.” 

“You should really call that art guy back, the one that called you a couple weeks ago. He liked your stuff, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “But he wanted me to travel too much. I’m staying in New York; it’s home.” 

“Whatever, man.” 

“What’re you doing tonight? I could be up for some-” 

“I have a date, sorry Steve.”

“With who? Are you still seeing that one guy?”

“Riley? Yeah.” Sam almost looks sheepish at the mention of him.

“Is it serious? I thought you guys were going to be casual about it, now you’re going on dates?”

“We tried casual. I didn’t like it; he didn’t like it, but we like each other. We’re gonna try to make it long term.” 

“Gah, all my friends are boring.” 

“‘In a relationship’ is not the same thing as boring, Steve.”

“Uh huh, that’s what people in relationships say.” 

“You know, you could be in a relationship, if you just put yourself out there a little more.” 

“I don’t like dating, Sam. You either don’t like each other and pretend to because it’s _comfortable_ or you like each other until one of you pisses the other one off, and then you’re miserable. There’s no positive outcome.”

“Wow, thank you Mr. Optimism. I’ll just let the whole world know that they’re wasting their time.” 

Though he knows that Sam is just giving him a hard time, Steve feels a little bad about what he said. “It’s not that, exactly. I just… It’s so hard, and I’m tired of it.”

“So you’re just gonna be okay with not being in a relationship, because I can respect that, but at the same time I’ve been told that you’re _quite_ the catch, so if you’re interested, I wouldn’t want that to go to waste.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “You’ve just heard Riley compliment my ass, Sam. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make a play for your man.” 

“Well as long as we have that down, I think that we’ll get along just fine.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve is walking out of the room, trying to look like he wasn’t tearing up just minutes before hand. Volunteering at the VA clinic on his days off had sounded like a good way to get inspiration for his art and give back to the community at the same time, but he hadn’t realized just how many days out of the week he would end up crying over something as inconsequential as someone taking a step or hugging their children. 

Sam was the one who had invited him to volunteer in the first place. After a couple of tours, Sam wasn’t out in the field anymore, but he still tried to work as many hours at his therapy clinic as possible. 

Steve’s waiting to talk to Sam after his shift, when the in question runs into him, too busy looking at some files to pay attention to Steve waiting outside his office door. “Hey, Steve… I was just looking for you”

“What do you want, Sam?” Steve crosses his arms in preparation. Sam never uses that tone of voice, the nonchalant _what do you mean asking for a favor, I would never even consider doing that to you_ voice, unless he needs Steve to agree to something that he would never consider otherwise. 

Steve is not very skilled at standing up to that voice from anybody, least of all one of his best friends. 

“It’s not that _I_ want somethings… per se… It’s more that I think I’ve found an opportunity for you to both make money and help people at the same time.”

“Okay…?” Steve is getting a little wary, this sounds unrealistically good. 

“But you’re _sure_ that you’re not going to be looking for a relationship anytime soon, right?”

“Right.” Steve agrees. “But what does that have to do with anything?” 

“This work… it’s not exactly something a partner would be interested in you doing.” 

“Sam,” Steve warns. “What are you getting me into?” Without any more explanation, Sam pulls Steve into his office, closing the door behind him. “Is this illegal.” 

“No, of course not. I would never ask you to do anything _illegal_ , Steve. I mean, c’mon.” Steve frowns, trying to get Sam to cut to the chase. “But, while it’s completely above-board and legal, it’s not something that is exactly _smiled upon_ by some higher-ups in the government, and I don’t want anyone to have an excuse to get you in any sort of trouble. Especially with some of the work you do, both at the VA and then with your bodyguard thing.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not a bodyguard, I’m just security, I’ve told you that so many-” 

“You’re an alpha bodyguard, accept it. But let me talk.” Steve waits, his arms still crossed. “So, you know as well as I do how difficult it is for some omegas to get their hands on suppressants, right?”

“Of course.” The pair of them had actually gone to a rally in Time Square about the very thing just a few weeks prior. “But while I believe that they should be easily accessible to everyone, I’m not going to smuggle illegal drugs, Sam. That’s prison time.” 

“That’s not what I’m suggesting, man. Chill.” Sam seems almost excited about _something_ and Steve is honestly getting worried about their safety. While they’re both considered a little radical in their beliefs, especially Steve as a white-alpha, Sam has always been a little bit more militant about the whole thing. In high school, Steve preferred attending protests and handing out flyers. Sam was more in favor of chaining himself to buildings and spraypainting politician’s cars. “There’s this program. It’s relatively new, but it’s funded by some very powerful people. It’s helping omegas who can’t be on suppressants, but don’t want to be bonded to someone get through their heats. And also, new research has shown that omegas going through a heat alone are much more likely to have suicidal tendencies or an increased chance of depression. So we can help in so many ways.” 

“How? Like sending toys or something?” 

“No, by sending _alphas_. The government has been influencing the way omegas have been living for decades, giving priority to omegas who choose to bond with an alpha at an early age, or to omegas who have tons of children. They’re stuck in this neverending cycle of getting their choices taken away from them. And we could be part of the program that gives some of them their choices back!” 

“Sending alphas? Aren’t there dating sites for that?”

“Yes, but any creeper can make a profile on a dating site. The alphas who are part of this program are vetted first. There are application procedures and you get interviewed by a bunch of people. Actually, you can’t even apply unless someone from inside the system approaches you first. Which is what I’m doing to you, right now, by the way. Usually someone would subtly interview you without your knowing it, but since I’ve kind of been doing that for about ten years now, I assured the people in charge of recruiting that we could skip that step.”

“So,” Steve is left almost-speechless by all of the information he’s just received. “You’re part of this organization?”

“Yes. It’s called Shield.”

“So, _you_ help out omegas?” 

Steve sees a sees a slight blush cross Sam's features."You know that I would never ask you to do anything that I wouldn't do myself,"

"But?" Steve interrupts. 

Sam smiles. "But, I found out about Shield at the same time I met Riley..." 

"You mean your boyfriend isn't willing to share you with random strangers?" 

"Exactly." 

Steve rubs a hand across the back of his neck, a nervous habit he picked up in high school and has yet to break. "I don't know, Sam. Casual sex is one thing, but casual heat? I've never done _that_ before." 

"If you're not comfortable with the idea, I'll back off. But I _really_ think that you could help people who need it. So just think about it. Please?" 

"I'll think about it, but that's all I can promise." Steve, still mulling over everything that Sam had said. "But you said make money, the omegas don't have to _pay_ for the service, do they? Because if they do..."

"Of course not, Steve. Honestly, what kind of man do you take me for? When I mentioned the funding earlier, that's where it comes into play. There's some donor is paying double for whatever work the alpha could be doing during the omegas heat, if they apply for it. Same with omegas." 

"Shit. Who has that much money?" 

"It's an 'anonymous' donor. But word on the street is Tony Stark." 

"Whatever," Steve rolls his eyes. "Stark probably spread that rumor about himself for press. There's no way he would donate _that_ much money to _anything_." 

"That's just what I heard." Sam shrugs. "But you'll think about doing it?"

"Only since you asked so nicely." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve crosses his arms definitively. "No way." 

The guy is so drunk that he can hardly stand, let alone put together a coherent sentence. "I... her.” He points at a random woman on the other side of the rope. “Friends. We're friends." 

"I'm sorry, sir. But this area is VIP only. If you want past me, you're going to have to text your friend." 

"New phone," he holds up a model that has got to be at least two years old. "Lost her number. Please, just-" 

"No. Now beat it, or I'm going to have to bring you outside." 

"Jackass." The guy stumbles away. 

Steve hates his job, but he's good at it. People get a whiff of his scent, they see his large frame, and they listen too him. Most of the time, even if they're drunk off their ass. And the job pays decently enough that he can afford to spend a decent chunk of his time painting and at the VA. He's not living in the lap of luxury, but he's financially stable. 

“Rogers, my turn. Take a break.” Steve is practically pushed out of his position by the burly man.

“Thanks, Logan.” 

Steve has worked with Logan on and off over the years, and he still knows almost nothing about him. He doesn’t talk to anyone at all unless there’s a drink in his hand, and even then it’s hard to get him to say more than a couple of words at a time. 

Steve sits down at the bar in the part of the club where the regular people hang out. He gets to so tired of the girls and guys in outfits that cost more than his month’s rent grinding on each other. It would be nice to go to a place for once where it’s just some people relaxing with a couple of beers, but those kind of places don’t exactly need security. And if they do, they can’t afford it. 

So he settles for the part of the club where the not-so-swanky people tend to stay. Nobody’s clothes are threadbare by any stretch of the imagination, but everybody is more realistic than the people trying to get--unsuccessfully--into the VIP lounge. 

He’s only been seated a few seconds--he’s barely had time to waive the bartender away, he doesn’t drink on the job--before a familiar scent hits him. He can’t pin it at first, but something about it makes his mouth water. It’s sweet and soft… and spicy? In the strangest way… 

_Heat._ Someone at the bar is going into heat, or they will be in a matter of hours. He looks around the room, trying to find where the person is. They’ve got to be surrounded by horny alphas at this point, surely they know that- 

_There she is._ She’s not surrounded, not yet. There’s just one man. He’s an average-sized white guy with wild, dark hair. Steve approaches them, slowly. 

“You smell delicious.” Steve can barely hear the man’s whisper. “How does my place sound?” He starts bringing his hand slowly up her back. “We could get rid of some of these _inconvenient_ layers?” She laughs once more, letting him continue to feel her up. 

Steve is thinking--hoping--that they’re dating. The way that they’re flirting, it feels like they know each other. Some people are into that kind of thing, Steve knows, going into a public place while the omega is just on the edge of heat. It’s an exhibitionist kind of thing, he thinks. Not something he’s into, personally, but something that he knows happens. 

And his hope that these two people just happen to be kinky flies out the window as the man growls low in his throw. “What’s your name again, Sweetheart?”

“Anna,” She practically purrs. “Can I know yours?”

“Remy,” His phone starts ringing in his back pocket. “Shit,” He curses. “I’ve got to take this, but I’ll be right back, and then maybe we can…” He lets his sentence trail over, his meaning obvious. 

As soon as she leaves, the girl--Anna--seems to shrink. Where before she had been full of life, now it’s as if she’s trying to do anything to stop people from looking at her. 

Steve almost flies into panic mode as he approaches her, but he manages to calm himself down. “Miss?”

She flinches at his voice, though he had tried to keep it as calm and nonthreatening as possible. “What do you want?” She whispers, all of the laughter from just seconds ago gone without a trace. 

“Are you wanting to go home with that guy? Because if you don’t-”

“Fuck off, Mister.” Her voice is still quiet, but the anger is obvious. “This isn’t some sort of-”

“That’s not what I meant.” He holds up his hands innocently. “I just want to make sure that he’s not forcing this on you, because I can get you home safely, if you need. Or if you’re not comfortable with that, I you could stay in an empty room on the second floor that they keep in case of an emergency like this, until whoever you want comes to pick you up.”

The anger drains from her face as soon as it disappears. “Thank you. I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I _need_ this guy. I can’t… not alone. I know you’re an alpha, so you can’t understand, but heats alone… they’re not good. And I’m worried if I don’t have someone there, I’ll end up calling my ex. He… He wasn’t a nice guy. At all. And if I call him, I won’t be able to get rid of him a second time.” 

“You trust this Remy guy, though?” 

She laughs, her real laugh this time. “Mr. Alpha, do you think this is the first time I’ve done this? I’ve been working this guy for a couple of hours now, not that he knows that. He’ll be just fine, I promise.” 

Steve can feel himself blushing. “That’s… good. I’m…” 

“Thank you,” She looks over her shoulder. “Now leave. Some alphas like showing off in front of other people, but he doesn’t. He’ll like it better if I tell him that I told you to fuck off. So… fuck off.” She’s smiling though, a genuine one. 

Steve goes to sit down at the bar again, knowing that he only has a couple more minutes left before he needs to get back on duty. 

The omega, Anna. She shouldn’t have to go through that every time she needs someone to help her with her heat. It shouldn’t be a risk. During heat, omegas shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not they trust the alpha that they’re sleeping with. It should be a given. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**To Sam: I’m in. What do I need to do?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make Bucky's first heat one long chapter, but I got half way through and was already at like 3300 words... so... oops (jk I know you guys won't mind) But the next chapter should be too far away!

The packet that Sam had casually handed to them as they left the clinic that day was thick. He had ignored it the entire way home, but now that he is safely in his apartment, he knows that he has to go through it. He’s been thinking about it the last couple of days, and this is something that he _wants_ to do. 

**To alphas interested in volunteering for Shield’s alpha service.**

**We are glad that you are interested, but we need to warn you. This is not a dating service. This is an operation that is used to give underprivileged omegas a safe and healthy heat without having to worry about stigmatization from outsiders. If your goal in volunteering with us is to take advantage of as many omegas as possible, drop these papers now.**

**Due to our very thorough pre-interviews, we are secure in our belief that no alphas currently reading this need to be told these things, but we wanted to make our position absolutely clear. If hurt--even accidently--one of the omegas who have placed themselves under our care, a full investigation will be made, and if there is legal recourse possible, it will be made. We have some very expensive lawyers.**

Maybe Steve should be intimidated by the stern tone of the letter, but it honestly just makes him feel better about volunteering with Shield. If they hadn’t cut straight to the chase, he would have been constantly worried that he was taking advantage of an omega’s situation. 

**The following yes or no questions are vital for pairing compatible alphas and omegas. Please answer as honestly as possible.**

**Are you willing to send a picture of yourself to the omega in question?** _Yes_ Anything to make this easier on the omega in question. He answers yes for meeting beforehand as well. It would be awkward as hell, but if the omega he’s going to be helping needs that to make sure that Steve is trustworthy, he’s willing to do it. 

**Are you willing to stay with an omega during your rut:** _No_ Steve had been with an omega during his rut once, in college. The omega in question had hardly been more than a friend, but she had been interested in helping out, and his hormone-addled brain hadn’t even considered saying no. It had been beautiful, but so intimate. Steve knew that they girl and him were never destined to be long term, but breaking it off had been so much more drawn out and painful than it needed to be. He wasn’t sure if omega’s experienced similar emotions with alphas during their heats, but if they did… well, he wasn’t sure how they dealt with it. He marks his indifference as to whether or not he stays in a hotel or an omega’s home. 

**What is the longest duration you can miss from work without consequences?** _Hmmmm_ Steve pretty much sets his own hours when it comes to all of his jobs. The security detail has a rotation of guys they can ask, so turning down a job just means it goes to someone else. He doesn’t enjoy turning down painting commissions, but he can, and the VA, while important, is something he does to volunteer. _Indefinitely_ , he scribbles on the paper. 

He hands Sam the completed packet the next day, still not completely sure what he’s getting himself into. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A woman by the name of Maria Hill smiles at Steve from across the table. “Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Steve. When Riley and Sam both gushed about you, we were all a little sceptical. I, personally, didn’t believe that someone as perfectly suited for this would just fall into our laps, but here you are.”

“So, I passed the interview?”

“Yes, Steve.” Her smile seems cold, somehow, and Steve can’t figure it out. “You passed, with flying colors, even.” 

“So, now… what?”

She laughs, high and humorless, “Now, you wait. We’ll either match you up with an omega, in case of an emergency, or an omega will choose you based on the questionnaire you filled out.” 

“There’s nothing else you need me to do?”

“Just wait for our call, Rogers.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Steve is in the middle of a series on Netflix about conspiracy theories when his phone buzzes. He considers ignoring it, it’s probably just Sam with some joke that he _thinks_ is funny. 

When it buzzes for a second time a minute later, he changes his mind, pulling himself up off the couch to grab his phone off the counter. 

**From Unlisted: An omega near you just went into heat. He’s okay with not meeting beforehand, but would like an alpha to come to his house. Do you have schedule conflicts? I need an answer ASAP. If yes, I need to know what you’ll be wearing.**

Steve feels his heart almost skip a beat. It’s only been a couple of weeks since his final interview with Shield. He’s been expecting the call for a while, but he still--in the back of his mind--felt like he would never _actually_ get the call. 

He wasn’t supposed to work for the next two days anyway, and he can text his boss at the security agency to take him out of the rotation for a week or so. He doesn’t have an excuse to say no, but there is a small part of him that wants to make up an excuse. This omega will be trusting Steve with their health and safety for the next several days. It’s a lot of responsibilities. 

But, if Steve says no, the next alpha they call might not be so understanding, even if they managed to get through Shield’s rigorous system. 

**To Unlisted: I can leave now. Wearing a brown leather jacket**

The next text is an address. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
As the door opens, Steve’s entire brain short circuits as he tries to process the smell that is coming off of the omega.

Steve has been trying to keep thoughts of how attractive the omega _might_ be out of his head. It has always been possible that he would be matched up with someone who he isn’t attracted to, and he didn’t want to seem disappointed when they meet. Besides, as he’s been told since the beginning, this isn’t a dating service. This is him helping someone in need through their heat. 

All of that flies out the window as he looks at the omega standing in front of him. The smell of his heat is there, sultry and spicy and needy, but underneath there is something more, the smell of sweet apple pie topped with ice cream on a summer’s day, or cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. 

“Hi.” The omega’s voice is soft, as if he’s scared that Steve is just a ghost. 

It takes Steve a few seconds, and an ungodly amount of effort, to keep his voice even. “Hello, are you…?” He doesn’t know the omega’s name. That hadn’t bothered him before, but now _all_ he wants to do is know this omega’s name. 

“Yes, I am.” Steve tries not to let his disappointment show about not knowing his name. This is supposed to be a safe space, so anything they need to do to make the omega feel comfortable, Steve is willing to do it. “My name is James,” Steve’s heart soars. “But I prefer Bucky. Come in.” 

_Bucky_ Sort of a strange name, but it suits him. Steve walks through the door, wanting nothing more than for Bucky, _Bucky_ , to be screaming Steve’s name. 

Bucky, who before had seemed just slightly unsure, suddenly seems completely lost, like he’s not sure what Steve expects of him, as if Steve has any expectations of him. Something about the slight frown on Bucky’s face makes Steve want to cuddle him into a corner and whisper just how beautiful he is over every inch of the omega’s skin. 

But that might be kind of intense for just meeting. 

“Do you need anything? I could-” 

Steve can’t help how utterly adorable he finds the other man. Here Steve is, barging into Bucky’s house with the intention of fucking him, and he’s worried about _Steve_ being uncomfortable. There’s a small part of him that wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

He reaches out and gently grabs hold of his arm, turning Bucky around. He takes Bucky’s chin lightly in his hand and steps closer, tilting Bucky’s head so that if Steve was just an inch shorter, their lips would be touching. “I thought I was here to take care of you, not the other way ‘round.” The higher reasoning part of Steve’s brain is slightly embarrassed of the way his Brooklyn accent comes out so obviously when he’s this turned on, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. 

The omega _whines_ loud and needy, and then getting this man into a bed as quickly as possible is the only thing that Steve can think about. “Bucky,” He whispers into the omega’s ear. “You smell so good.” Before he can even think the action through, he scents Bucky, relishing in just how _delicious_ he smells. He’s only been through the door for a matter of seconds, but he can already feel himself straining against his jeans. “Where do you wanna do this?” Steve wants to get to this as quickly as possible, right here on the floor if that’s what Bucky wants, but there’s a part of him that wants to know just how beautiful the omega looks all stretched out on the bed. 

“Don’t know. Just need you. Now.” There’s a desperate edge to Bucky’s voice that sets Steve’s entire being on overdrive. He laughs, glad to hear the same neediness that he’s feeling himself. 

“Okay, let’s find the bed first, yeah?” This will be uncomfortable enough eventually, a bed might make both of them feel slightly less desperate afterwards. And Bucky deserves to be comfortable. Steve lets go of him, and Bucky whines again, louder this time. That sound almost makes him decide to take the omega then and there, but he knows that a bed is definitely the better option, though it takes all of his willpower to go through with the decision. “Bedroom, c’mon.” 

Bucky starts stripping on his way to the bedroom, and Steve can’t help his groans as the omega teases himself out of his shirt. It takes all of Steve’s remaining willpower to not become overwhelmed as they step into Bucky’s bedroom. The whole room smells of very concentrated _omega_. 

Bucky jumps onto the bed and wiggles out of his last remaining bits of clothes. He puts his hands behind his head and opens his legs, smoldering up at Steve from where he’s still standing near the door. 

“God,” Steve can’t decide if Bucky could possibly look more beautiful once Steve joins him on the bed. “You’re so sexy.” 

 

“Yeah?” Bucky blushes. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” 

Steve raises an eyebrow as he slides off his jacket and lets it fall to the floor. Bucky had his fun on the way to the bedroom, now it’s Steve’s turn to put on a show. He tries to do everything as lowly and deliberately as possible, teasing at the hem of his t-shirt like he’s debating whether or not to actually take it off. He can see Bucky clench his teeth together, and feels a sense of accomplishment. There’s no way that he’s anywhere _near_ this guy’s league, but Steve can tell that Bucky is at least enjoying himself. 

Bucky’s resolve finally seems to break when Steve finally takes his shirt off. “Steve,” He whines. “Please.” 

The whiny edge to his voice forces Steve to make quick work of the rest of his clothes, and he finally joins Bucky on the bed. He gets on his hands and knees, holding himself up over the omega. Bucky seems to be uncomfortable looking straight at Steve, and part of Steve wants to order him to look him, but he calms himself down. This is not _Steve’s_ omega, no matter how attractive they may find each other. 

“So…” Steve fights to keep his voice steady as Bucky is squirming underneath him. “How do you want to do this?” 

“Now. Just now.” 

Steve just chuckles. “Turn around. On your knees. Lay down if you want, whatever’s comfortable. I just wanna be able to see that pretty little ass of yours.” If Bucky doesn’t want to look him in the eye while they fuck, Steve’s not going to force anything on him. 

Steve had been worried, before getting here, that he wouldn’t know how to act with a partner who he really didn’t know. Casual sex was one thing, but casual heat? This was going to be a whole new ballgame. 

He shouldn’t have been worried. 

Bucky’s scent alone is enough to push Steve’s alpha to do exactly what needs to be done. His entire body is radiating exactly what Bucky wants done to him. As Steve pushes his tongue inside of the omega’s rapidly-loosening hole, Steve has to fight not to start jacking himself off at the same time. He’s going to need his knot for something more important than pleasure today. 

He explores Bucky with his tongue, poking and prodding all of the parts that make Bucky squirm and push against Steve. Within a matter of minutes, Bucky is pleading a steady string of incoherent syllables as to _what_ exactly Steve should be doing with his tongue. 

 

“Steve,” Bucky whines as Steve hits that spot that makes Bucky moan every time. “Steve, I’m so close.” Steve growls involuntarily, and for a second he’s worried that Bucky’s going to push him away and tell him to back the fuck off, but Bucky seems just as into it--if not more into it--as before. “Steve, please.” 

The whine forces something almost animalistic out of Steve; he _needs_ to look into the omega’s eyes, see what kind of expressions Bucky is making as he fills him with his knot. He flips the omega over, and Bucky’s moan at the sight of him is enough to stroke even Steve’s ego. 

He lowers himself so that he’s only inches away from Bucky’s dick. Steve almost decides to eat him out ago, the heady taste had almost been more satisfying than _actually_ fucking, but he knows that Bucky won’t be able to rest without a knot, _his knot_. He slowly presses a finger into the omega. This gets Bucky to groan, not the fun kind, and Steve can’t help but find both adorable and hilarious. 

He raises an eyebrow at Bucky. The omega just rolls his eyes. “If I wanted to get fucked with fingers, I could have done it myself, and I would have gotten myself off by-” Steve hits _that_ spot, curling his finger just right. 

Steve knew that Bucky was beautiful the moment he first saw him, but watching him come, as his entire body pulses around Steve’s fingers, is beyond beautiful. Gorgeous, breathtaking, perfect. 

Steve smirks down at him as he recovers. “You were saying?”

Bucky looks like he’s not sure if he wants to punch Steve, or blow him. Steve can’t decide which one would be hotter. “Fuck you.” The anger behind the words is less intimidating when the person who’s saying them’s dick is already semi-hard again. 

“Really? I thought you wanted to do this the other way around?” Bucky whines again at that, and Steve’s entire body goes back into overdrive. “Give me like two seconds, yeah?” He hops off of the bed and finds his jeans on the floor, digging a condom out of his jean pocket. He takes it out of the foil and begins putting it on himself. 

When Steve takes a second to look back towards Bucky, he looks impatient. “I’ve been on suppressants for two years now. There’s no way I could get pregnant. And I haven’t slept with anyone for a little longer than that.” 

Steve continues putting it out. “Well, you were probably on suppressants for a reason. And I don’t want a kid any more than you do right now. So, better safe than sorry.” It only takes a few more seconds, but by the time he’s done, Bucky seems to have given up on waiting for him, presenting himself on the bed like the world’s snarkiest sacrifice. 

Steve hurries back onto the bed. He ghosts over Bucky’s entrance and traces the flesh of his ass gently with his hands. He pushes into Bucky slowly, taking his time to bottom out. Bucky is far enough into his heat where it only takes him a few seconds to adjust. “Move, Steve.” He begs. “Please.” He adds on, like an afterthought. 

 

Steve has always been pretty good at following orders. He starts to push in and out of Bucky with more and more force, pushing Bucky’s entire body flat against the bed. Between the perfect friction between their bodies and the scent Bucky is giving off in waves, Steve knows instantly that he is close to finishing. Both of them moan in unison every time his knot catches against Bucky’s entrance. The omega has kept up a steady stream of “Fuck, Steve, more, fuck.” along with long stretches of syllables that Steve can’t focus on enough to understand. 

“Almost there, Buck.” He murmurs between pants of breath. 

“Steve,” Bucky whines, loud. The _neediness_ in his voice pushes Steve to pound into him faster until the bed is shaking in earnest. Steve wonders for half a second if they should be worried about neighbors complaining before he realizes that he genuinely doesn’t give a shit. Bucky continues a steady litany of “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” of varying pitches as Steve rocks into him over and over again. 

Steve finds is harder and harder to keep up a steady rhythm to his thrusts as he edges closer and closer to the ledge. He starts to warn Bucky one final time as his knot starts to expand. In the heat of the aftershocks, he bites gently down on the back of Bucky’s shoulders. The sudden sensation along with the pulsing knot seem to push the omega over the edge.

Both of them lay quietly, in a haze of pleasure. Steve can feel his entire body relax on top of Bucky’s. There’s a part of Steve’s brain that is preening, he wants nothing more than to whisper endearments into the omega’s ear as they both recover from their orgasms. 

He knows better than to even try. “Was that okay?” Pleasure is still coming in waves as he comes. 

“Uh hmmmmm” Bucky nods. Steve can’t help but smile. He fucked the words right out of Bucky. “Very good. Great.” A small smile plays across the omega’s lips. Steve has to consciously keep himself from kissing it off. 

He chuckles instead, kissing the omega lightly on the shoulder instead. “We’ll probably be like this for a while.” He begins to trail his way across Bucky’s shoulders with small, chaste pecks, relishing the taste of sweet, happy, fucked omega. 

Bucky just hums in contentment. “Yeah? How long do you think?”

“Hard to say, really.” Steve can feel himself flush red, glad that Bucky can’t see him very well from this angle. They just finished fucking, and Bucky already sounds like he’s trying to talk dirty. “Half an hour on average, but it’s a little different every time.” 

“Shit really?” Bucky is finally starting to sound like himself again. “We’ll have to be careful about what kind of position we’re in _every_ time won’t we?” 

Steve just laughs as he slowly mouths up Bucky’s neck.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

It's forty-five minutes later before Steve finally manages to pull out of Bucky. “Jesus Christ, Steve. Next time, I'm laying on top of you.” Bucky pushes Steve off of him, but Steve keeps ahold of the omega and cuddles him close. 

“So,” Steve whispers into Bucky’s ear. “Just how long will it _be_ until next time?” 

“Honest? I have no idea. At the beginning there’s usually at least a couple hours, but I feel like m y bodies in overdrive right now?”

“So… Soon?” 

Bucky laughs, and Steve wants to make him laugh as often as possible. “A little eager, aren't we?” 

Steve rolls so that he's on top of Bucky again. “I can't say that I would mind another round.” Steve can already feel himself starting to get hard again. “Fuck, Bucky you just smell so good.” And Steve buries his face into Bucky's neck, blatantly scenting him. 

“We really don't have to yet, I don't want to wear you out too quickly.” 

“But it starts hurting, yeah? If you wait too long? Doesn't it make sense to just do it as often as possible?” 

Steve can see that Bucky is genuinely considering what he’s saying. He’s not sure _exactly_ what about Bucky is making him so crazy, but something definitely is. 

“A break. I think I need a bit of a break, actually. I think I might take a shower, might not get the chance for a while.” Bucky nods towards the door to his ensuite. 

“Oh,” Steve tries not to sound disappointed. “ yeah, that's fine. Whatever you need, Bucky. I can wait as long as you need. Just yell if you need something, okay?” 

At first, Steve tells himself that he’s going to stay awake the entire time that Bucky is in the shower, just in case the omega decides to yell for him part of the way through. His brain and body must decide otherwise, because it’s only a few seconds after he loses the omega’s warmth in his arms that he can tell that he’s drifting off to sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Fuck, Bucky!” Steve practically jumps awake as Bucky strokes him to full hardness. 

“I tried waking you up. Nothing else worked. But if you need to go to bed, I can-” 

“Shut up, asshole and get over here.” Steve's pulls Bucky over to him. 

“You tired? Gonna have problems getting up?” Bucky smirks as he looks down at the alpha. 

“I'll let you tell me if there are any problems, okay?” Bucky allows Steve to manhandle him until he's straddling the alpha. “Besides, I thought you said you wanted to be careful about the positions we get stuck in.” 

“True,” Steve is a little worried when Bucky looks surprised at their position, but he seems to get over it pretty quickly. “This time I can sit on top of you for an hour and we’ll see how you like it.” 

Steve just laughs. “For some reason, I feel like I’ll be fine. Now enough talking.” 

Bucky growls when Steve starts to finger him again. Steve would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that that was roughly 100% of the reason that he had done that, so he gives up without a fight, pulling his fingers away. He pushes his already-swelling knot into the omega’s gaping entrance. 

As Steve, taking his time, bottoms out, Bucky comes, completely untouched. He sits and stares in wonder at the omega. Steve grabs ahold of Bucky’s hips and begins to guide him as steadily as possible. The alpha pushes him just a little bit, angling him back just enough to where-

“Fuck! Steve. Fuck.” Bucky begins to ignore Steve’s guiding. “Shit, Steve. Please. Need you. Now. Please.” His words come out short and breathy, hardly able to catch his breath. Steve’s never been so turned on in his life. 

Something, whether it’s Bucky’s pleas, his smell, or just the fucking in general, sets Steve off, and he growls again, deep and primal and possessive. “C’mon, Bucky. You got this, baby.” And something about the pet name spurs Bucky on, and he’s going twice as fast as he thought it would, and Steve’s knot is growing faster than ever, almost catching with every thrust. 

They come at the exact same time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I meant to have this out by Christmas Eve/Christmas as a sort of present for you guys, so I'm going to blame my family things on me not getting it done. (I love my family; I love my family; I love my family. She reminds herself emphatically) 
> 
> To help with any confusion: This takes place during the first heat they spend together, roughly chapters 4-5 of Part I 
> 
> (Also this is not only un-beta'ed, but also un-proofread-by-the-author so I'm assuming I made mistakes, corrections are not only encouraged, but appreciated)

Chapter 3

Steve wakes up slowly. He wonders, for just a few moments, where he is, and who he’s with, before he remember exactly what happened. He doesn’t dwell on anything too long, he knows better than to do that--especially with Bucky still sleeping--but he can’t help but feel a general sort of contentedness that he normally doesn’t have. 

Bucky seems to have rolled to the other side of the bed in his sleep. There’s a part of Steve that wishes that he could have experienced waking up with Bucky all cuddled into him, but the rational part knows that this way makes everything easier. 

He gets out of the bed, trying to make sure he moves as little as possible, before heading to Bucky’s kitchen. He searches through the fridge and different cabinets before realizing that the omega is _completely_ out of food. Perfect. That’ll make keeping an omega alive and healthy through their heat simple. 

He calls Sam. 

“What do you want, Steve?”

Steve tries his best at sounding innocent. “Do you remember that time where I had plans, until you realized that you needed to get across town _right_ then?”

“What do you want, Steve?” He repeats, firmer this time.

“You love me, right? We’re friends?”

“Of course we’re friends. Now. What. Do. You. Want.”

“I need you to come to this omega’s house-”

“Steve-”

“And I need you to stop at every takeout spot on the way there, because he has _no_ food. None. Whatsoever.” 

Steve can almost hear Sam rolling his eyes through the phone. “Fine. But, you _owe_ me.”

“You’re the best, Sam!”

Sam only grumbles a little bit before hanging up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Sam arrives with the food a lot quicker than Steve had expected him to. As Steve pays him--standing at the doorway, not even Steve is dumb enough to let another alpha into Bucky’s space while he’s in heat--Sam only grumbles a tiny amount, and Steve only has to promise to treat Riley and Sam to coffee to make up for it. 

As soon as Steve shuts the door behind Sam, he hears an audible sigh of relief. “Who was that?”

“Oh, shit, Bucky. I didn’t think you’d be awake yet. I woke up and was going to get you food, but you didn’t have any in the house. So, I called one of my friends and convinced him to bring us some.” Steve walks to Bucky’s kitchen table and starts laying out the food. “I didn’t know what you like, so I had him run by a couple of places that were on the way.” He can feel himself beginning to blush as the food slowly covers up almost the entire table. 

Bucky just raises an eyebrow. “You do know that it’s only you and me, right?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, but you don’t have _any_ food in the house, and I didn’t want Sam to have to stop by more than once.”

“Oh.” Bucky just looks surprised, like he’s not used to alphas doing nice things for him. “You didn’t have to-”

“I did.” Steve can almost feel Bucky’s desire to argue with him shoot up. He prays that Bucky gives in, because he doesn’t think he could win an argument against Bucky even if he was trying to. “Now, eat before you get distracted.” 

Steve watches carefully as Bucky fills a plate, subconsciously keeping track of what Bucky seems to like and making sure that he plans to eat at least a couple different food groups. 

He waits until Bucky’s plate is full before he starts filling his own. “So do you always leave your house empty of food, or is that only when your heat is about to start?” 

Steve can’t help but notice how cute Bucky looks when he blushes. “I was going to go shopping today, actually. It’s been years, so I was just counting the weeks that I had been off of suppressants. I guess my body just didn’t look at my schedule- Shit. What time is it? Fuck.” 

“It’s a little after nine, I think? Why?” 

“I forgot to call my boss. God dammit.” He gets up from the table, food forgotten, and starts looking for his phone, finally finding it in the living room. 

Steve pays close attention to Bucky’s body language as he dials his boss’s number. He knows that some employers take total advantage of the omegas who work for them, and some assholes might even fire an omega for going into heat unexpectedly like this. Bucky seems nervous, but not overly so. Steve imagines that anybody who had forgotten to call their boss would be at least mildly nervous. He knows by Bucky’s scent that he’s going to want to mess around a little bit after this phone call, so Steve begins straightening up the food. The leftovers will be just as good warmed up in an hour or so. 

“Nat, I’m so sorry, it started last night, and then I didn’t set my alarm, and-” Bucky rambles. Steve can’t hear the reply, but Bucky smiles occasionally, so his boss can’t be too big of asshole. 

“Thanks, Nat. I owe you one.” Steve can imagine what he would be saying if Bucky told him that he _owed him one_. He can’t help but wondering what kind of things Bucky’s boss is suggesting as the omega smiles into the phone. “I can do that.” 

Bucky is laughing as he hangs up the phone and throws it back onto the couch. Something about his scent, relaxed now that the phone call is over, probably, turns on Steve more than anything they had done the night before. He’s relaxed and calm and… happy? Not exactly the sexiest adjectives, but true nonetheless. 

Steve doesn’t even realize that he’s been slowly approaching Bucky until the omega is almost completely backed against a wall. He can tell that the omega’s heart rate is faster than normal, though he’s not sure if it’s the phone call or the heat that’s causing it. “Everything okay? Do I need to kick someone’s ass for you?” 

“No,” Bucky seems to struggle for words for a few seconds. “My boss is good. I’m not gonna get fired or anything.” 

“Good,” Steve would do anything to keep Bucky’s eyes on him, just like they are at this exact moment. Beautiful, and maybe slightly annoyed. “Now I don’t have to feel bad for distracting you.” 

Steve gently places his hands on either side of Bucky, paying attention for any sign that this isn’t what Bucky wants. He can smell the pheromones coming off of him in waves, but he still watches his eyes, making sure that he’s not annoyed or uncomfortable or afraid. 

Bucky, thankfully, just seems turned on. “The food?” He asks, halfheartedly. 

Steve chuckles. “Already put it away.” 

Bucky smiles and drags Steve to the couch. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bucky asks what Steve’s job is, Steve wishes that he could list something more… impressive. That he is a famous artist who has people clamoring for a piece, or even the head of a security company. He wishes Bucky could see him as a professional, someone who has their life figured out. Someone who could take care-

_Nope._ Steve pulls his mind out of the gutter. He’s here to help Bucky through his heat, not try to pressure him into a relationship that neither one of them was looking for going into this. 

But lying here, Bucky trapped beneath him, Steve can’t help but to _want_ this. 

“Are you going to draw me like one of your french girls?” 

Steve tries to laugh it off, but he can’t help picturing it. Bucky, completely nude except for a large gem pendant, just like in the movies. A deep blue that would bring out the color in his eyes, though the drawing would be in black and white. His hair would be loose, curling around his face, in a perfectly arranged mess. His body strong and soft, laying confidently back against an old, antique couch. 

Bucky doesn’t seem to notice lapse of attention, but Steve tries to force himself to stop. If Bucky is going to trust him, he needs to keep his head in the present. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Steve had been confused when Bucky had been so… coherent through the first stage of heat. Movies, books, television shows, and basically every other source Steve has had when it comes to omegas and their heats have given him the impression that it’s more intense than Bucky’s had been. 

Steve now wishes he hadn’t tempted fate. 

Bucky is beautiful like this, desperate and wanting, but at this point the omega is begging for more before Steve’s knot can go back down. Sam had discreetly given Steve some viagra the day he had turned in his paperwork, and he hadn’t thought he would actually need it, but _damn _is he glad he brought it. He’s lost track of how long it’s been since they’ve eaten, let alone since either one of them has slept. Every time Steve has gotten up to go to the bathroom, Bucky has followed, rather unsuccessfully. Steve has lost track of the times he’s had to carry the omega back to bed.__

__He’s pretty sure it’s been a couple of days since he first arrived when Bucky passes out, probably from exhaustion. The omega whines quietly even in his sleep, but is still gently snoring even after Steve’s knot has completely receded. Steve doesn’t even take the time to put clothes back on before rushing to the kitchen; he’ll be lucky if Bucky stays asleep long enough as it is._ _

__He hurriedly sorts through Bucky’s fridge for food that requires very little effort to eat. Applesauce. Sam, what a genius, had thrown in some applesauce with the take out food he had brought. Steve grabs the entire container and all the bottles of water he can carry and sticks a spoon in his mouth before rushing back to the bedroom. He drinks one of the bottles of water and starts taking small bites of applesauce, waiting for Bucky to wake up. Steve knows that he should be trying to sleep, but his whole body is on alert-mode, and he doesn’t want to miss an opportunity to feed his omega._ _

___His omega. Shit._ Doubt starts to creep slowly through his entire body. He can feel it settling into his stomach, making his neck tense and his toes tingle. Before he can worry _too_ much, Bucky’s eyes flutter open. _ _

__He’s immediately at the ready, spoon and applesauce jar in hand. Right now, Steve’s own feelings are irrelevant to the situation. He needs to take care of Bucky._ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__Bucky’s heat seems to be done, or close enough to done. He’s been sleeping for almost twelve hours, and there’s a small part of Steve that wonders if it would be more comfortable for Bucky if Steve somehow found the number to one of his friends, that way he’d wake up with someone he knows and is comfortable with._ _

__Of course, there’s a larger part of Steve that think that sounds absolutely stupid, and he knows that he’s not going to leave this house until he’s 100% sure that Bucky’s heat is over and Bucky _wants_ him to leave. _ _

__And, if as he begins to warm up leftovers in preparation for Bucky waking up, there’s a tiny, miniscule, barely-there part of him that is hoping Bucky doesn’t _want_ him to leave any time soon… well… no one needs to know. _ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__“I think I’m going to take a shower.” Bucky announces._ _

___Want me to join you?_ Steve almost asks, but then immediately decides against it. “Ok, just yell if you need anything.” _ _

__He knows that Bucky’s heat is over, he’s been able to tell for the last couple hours at least, but he can’t bring himself to leave, or even suggest to Bucky that he should leave. He knows that he’s too attached, and that Bucky asked him-- _not him. Someone. Bucky asked for anyone to help_ \--to help him through his heat _precisely_ because he’s not looking for a relationship. Because if Bucky _was_ looking for a relationship, Steve’s sure that he could find one, with anyone he wanted, anywhere in New York City, America, or the world. He’d only have to ask. _ _

__Steve is a semi-successful security guard and a hardly-successful-at-all artist who barely managed to pay his rent last month and hardly has time to paint, let alone commit himself to a steady relationship._ _

__He begins to clean up the food and wash the dishes while Bucky is in the shower. At least then he has an actual pretext for being here._ _

__When Bucky finally emerges, all the lingering scents from his heat are gone. Though his regular scent is still pleasant and less overwhelming, Steve can’t help but mourn it, just a little. This means the end of their relationship. _Not a relationship. Think of it as a business transaction_ a voice that sounds mysteriously like Sam tells him. _ _

__When Steve suggests that it’s time for him to get going, Bucky almost looks surprised, and his heart soars. At least he’s not the only one that’s gotten used to their coexistence._ _

__When Bucky suggests giving Steve the rest of the food, Steve interrupts him quickly. “No, you can keep it. You don’t have any food in the house, and I know that you could go to the store, but there’s no reason to yet. There’s only enough for a couple more meals anyway, and I promised one of my friends I’d eat with them as soon as I left here.” He lies smoothly. Sam will probably eat with him, if he asks._ _

__“If you’re sure-”_ _

__“I am.” The overly-protective, alpha part of him doesn’t like the idea of Bucky going out to face the general public just yet, though the smell of heat is gone._ _

__Steve is glad that Bucky looks as uncomfortable about the situation as Steve feels. “I- Uh- Thank you. I- It would have been- I don’t know what I would have done without you.”_ _

__“Don’t mention it. It wasn’t exactly a hardship.” Steve feels his cheeks heat up, probably an awful red color. “I’m- I’ll be going then.”_ _

__And with no more than that, Steve leaves._ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__Sam is overly curious during their morning run. “You can’t just say ‘It was fine.’ and not expound a little more on the details, Steve. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t wanna know the _details_ but if you’re not willing to at least tell me how you _felt_ about it, I’m going to assume that some seriously messed up shit went down.” _ _

__“Wow, Sam. For a therapist you’re not very good at respecting another person’s boundaries.”_ _

__Sam snorts. “It’s my job to push people’s boundaries, Steve.”_ _

__“You mean that you’re nosey.”_ _

__“Yes, goddammit, I’m nosey. Why won’t you tell me anything?”_ _

__“It was… intimate. More so than I thought it would be, even. I guess… I don’t know… I just-”_ _

__Sam quirks an eyebrow at him. “Steve it was six days. Surely you didn’t fall in love with the omega.”_ _

__“No,” Steve shakes his head. “It wasn’t that. We didn’t talk enough for it to get _that_ intense.” He laughs, remembering how very _little_ they talked. _ _

__“You sick fuck,” Sam laughs. “Don’t have heat-sex flash-backs while we’re talking, it’s creepy.”_ _

__“Hey, you were the one who started asking about what we were doing!”_ _

__“No, no, no,” Sam huffs in between breaths. “I asked if you fell in love with him. You were the one who started talking about what the two of you spent your time doing.”_ _

__“Fair enough.” The competitive part of Steve--so most of him, honestly-- enjoys how much more even his own breaths come while running than Sam’s. “I didn’t fall in love with him,” _Liar_. “But, _damn_ , was he beautiful.” _ _

__“So, would you do it again?”_ _

__Steve shrugs, like he hasn’t spent the last couple days considering the question. “Maybe. I haven’t taken my name off of the list, anyway.”_ _

__“What about with the same omega? Some of them use the service more than once.”_ _

__“I-” Steve stops himself, not wanting to seem too eager. “Possibly, if he was interested.”_ _

__He hopes that his reply sounded offhand, like he hadn’t been dreaming of the possibility for almost a week now._ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this. Wow the chapters for this one are /so/ much longer than Part I. (We're catching up VERY quickly!!! ;) ) If you see any typos let me know! 
> 
> (Also, hopefully the next chapter will be up faster than this one is! The procrastination is strong in this one--as in me--, sorry)
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated!

Chapter Four 

**Side effects coming off of long-term suppressants**

Steve pretends that he’s just curious, as he types the words into the search bar. It is his duty, as an alpha and a human being in general, to find out these sorts of things. He should be more aware of what omegas have to go through. As an alpha with very few omega friends, he was completely unaware of just how many regulations have been placed around the use of suppressants in general. He had, naively, assumed that they were openly available to all omegas equally. Like condoms. 

They are not. 

They don’t teach this is school, and it doesn’t even appear on major news sources, but if one cares enough to type phrases such as “omega equality” and “institutionalized sexism” into any search engine, more articles appear then Steve would have time to read in one lifetime. 

He’s horrified at what their society has allowed to happen, completely unchecked, in the last several decades. Once, it seems, things were on more even footing, if nothing else. Omegas were once prized, not only for their ability to provide healthy children, but for the calming influence they had on not just alphas, but children and betas as well. Omegas, even those who were unmated or barren, were respected members of society. Steve had assumed they still were. 

Politicians, it seems, disagree. Politics being a field that is overwhelmingly full of alphas, over the last couple of decades, they have slowly taken away rights. In some states, there are bills being debated _in the 21st century_ that could take away the right for unmated omegas to inherit property. Steve wants to write a letter, a very angry, very long letter, though he isn’t quite sure who he could send it to. The New York Times? The president? Every single person in the country? 

Before he single handedly takes on the patriarchy, he wants to become more informed. _This has nothing to do with Bucky. The omega might have opened his eyes to the inequality, but he’s not the reason that Steve feels passionate about this. Or… at least not the **only** reason._

He clicks on the first link. **Pros and Cons of Continued Suppressant Use.** He skims through the first part of the article, as it focuses more on the ups and downs of _current_ use. Steve wants to know what happens when you stop using them. 

Finally, after a what feels like hours of scrolling, he gets to what he’s looking for. 

**What happens after you stop using suppressants?**

**Deciding to use suppressants is all well and good. It prevents--most--heat symptoms, and prevents an egg from being released into the uterus, but eventually you’ll have to stop taking them. Most states prohibit the continuous use of suppressants by healthy omegas after three to five years, but this time period can be as short as a single year. Alaska allows omegas to use suppressants for up to 7 years. Regardless, eventually omegas are required to stop using them. There is a shortage of reliable studies on the process of stopping suppressants, and what we do know can vary greatly from one individual to another. But we’ve compiled a list of some of the most common side effects.**

**1\. Moodiness. Suppressants affect an omega’s hormones. While this symptom is usually the first to disappear, it usually will take an omega’s body at least a couple of days--maybe even several weeks--to get back in the swing of things.**

**2\. Irregular heats. This, again, is due to the hormones that are affected by suppressants. Depending on the type of suppressant an omega is using, most heat symptoms are stopped during the time they’re on suppressants, and as with the hormones that affect mood, it will take a while--sometimes as much as a year--for the omega’s body to get back into its regular rhythm.**

**3\. Weight Change. Losing or gaining weight after stopping suppressants is completely normal, just as it is normal to lose or gain weight when initially starting the suppressants. Making sure to eat regularly-proportioned meals despite a changing appetite is one of the most sure-fire ways of stopping this from happening.**

**4\. Short-term Infertility. Many groups who rally against the use of suppressants cite that it causes permanent infertility in omegas, but no studies have shown this to be true. However, if you stop taking suppressants with the idea of trying for a baby immediately, don’t lose hope if you don’t conceive right away. Fertility issues due to suppressants should disappear by the time the omega’s heats are coming regularly again. Problems conceiving after 2-3 regular heats have occurred is when the couple might want to consider visiting a fertility clinic.**

Steve scrolls through the rest of the article. It’s all very informative, though a little terrifying. His own biology is simple compared to this. He can’t imagine having to deal with all of this as a teenager. His own childhood’s biggest problems is trying to ask the foreign exchange student to dance his senior year. (Minus the times he repeatedly almost-died before his first rut.) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He knows the whole idea is cliche to the extreme, but since he spending that week with Bucky, Steve’s artwork has been… better. It’s like the omega unlocked a part of Steve’s brain that had been hidden before. His art has been _technically_ good for years, but now… he’s inspired. 

His art dealer almost cried when he showed her his most recent group of paintings. “Where have you been hiding this? Your old stuff was good, but _this_.” She picked her five favorites of his paintings--he’d been painting faster as well as better--and told him to get back to work. “If you can keep this up, we’re _going_ places, Steve. Very important places.” 

For years he’s selling most of his work at coffee shops. He’s shown the work in private parties, open studios, and occasionally even the lobbies of random business. The responses have always been pleasant, and he’s even had a few pieces with very respectable reviews in major newspapers, but nothing that has ever been seen as phenomenal, not in the grand scheme of things. 

Steve’s not going to lie. They’re all of Bucky, though not _all_ of Bucky. They’re snapshots, extreme close-ups. 

Bucky’s feet, crossed. The wrinkled sheets beneath them curled between his toes. 

His neck, the tip of his chin _just_ jutting into the frame. Beads of sweat can _just barely_ be seen running down his neck. His neck is bared in the frame, an invitation for someone, the artist, to claim. The background is in cool colors, blue and purple, in almost-psychedelic lines. 

Long fingers running through hair. This one appears almost abstract, if you don’t know what you’re looking for. The hair is long and curly, varying shades a brown. 

Steve’s favorite is back at his apartment, he couldn’t bring himself to show Carol the image. It’s Bucky’s face, biting his lip with head arched back with pleasure, his eyes closed. The other ones _could_ have been anyone, though Steve knows they’re Bucky. There’s no mistaking this one though. Steve almost feels bad for even having made it. It feels like a breach of privacy. Bucky signed up for help with his heat, he didn’t sign up for an artist to recreate their week together using oils and canvas. 

He puts the painting in the back of the closet; it feels creepy to display it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve pretends that he doesn’t have three months after Bucky’s heat ended marked on his mental calendar. Because that would be weird. He knows that Bucky could very well ask someone else to help him. Bucky could get involved with someone. Bucky could go back on suppressants. (Steve prefers that last one.) 

**From Sam: Hey there’s an omega that you might be a match with going into heat next week. Should I send them your application?**

Steve thinks about the date before answering. _Bucky could go into heat in the next week or two_ He tells himself. His heats could still be irregular. Even if it worked out _perfectly_ Bucky might ask someone else. He frowns at the thought. _Yeah, but he might **not** ask someone else._ Steve would understand if Bucky didn’t want to ask Steve again. The sex had been fantastic, but also very intense at times. That might be scary for someone not interested in a relationship. _Wait, I thought **I** wasn’t interested in a relationship?_ But still, the thought of Bucky asking, and Steve having to say _no_ is… awful. 

**To Sam: I promised Carol that I would work on the new line next week :( I should probably stop procrastinating.**

**From Sam: Nbd. I’ll tell them to find someone else.**

Steve knows that he didn’t lie to Sam, not _technically_ anyway, but he still feels guilty. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **From Storm Munroe: Hello, Steve. I’m contacting you concerning the omega you spent a heat with in mid-September. I know that it’s close to the holidays, but he was wondering if you would be interested in continuing helping him again sometime in the next week or so. If not, please contact me as soon as possible so that other arrangements can be made.**

Steve’s heart skips a beat, and then he’s immediately both angry and embarrassed about his reaction. _Please help me with my heat_ is not the same thing as _let’s bond and have lots of babies_ . 

Speaking of which… 

He pictures Bucky pregnant. His stomach round with a child they created together. His face glowing. Not being able to fit into his clothes anymore, having to wear Steve’s sweatshirts. Having to stay on top of Steve during sex. 

_Shit._

He can’t let himself get off to the idea of Bucky pregnant. He _wants_ to, but he can’t. That just seems… No. He can’t do that. 

Steve thinks of anything _besides_ that for several minutes as the extra blood retreats from his dick. 

He knows that he should say no to Bucky. He knows that there is no way that he can feasibly be a neutral party in this. But he also knows that it _is_ the holidays. Soon people will be going home to visit their families, and the selection of alphas is likely to be much lower than normal.

Steve doesn’t really _have_ a family, so… So he can at least _tell_ himself that he’s agreeing out of the goodness of his heart. 

**To Storm Munroe: Sure. No family things planned. Just let me know**

He doesn’t think about how many times he deleted and rewrote the text message. He feels over eager enough as it is. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve hasn’t let his phone battery die for a couple days now. He tells himself it’s for lots of reasons. He knows it’s just the one. 

He used to keep his phone in his gym bag when they would go on runs. Luckily, Sam doesn’t seem to notice. 

“So,” Sam huffs. “I was wondering if you had plans next week.” 

“I-” Steve’s glad that Sam can’t look him straight on right now, because he would definitely be blushing. “I kind of do, actually.”

“Oh? Because Riley and I are going down to my family’s, and you know that Mama would love to have you.” 

“If something changes, you’ll be the first to know, Sam. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve’s busy. He really is. Between his security job, painting, helping at the VA, and running and exercising--with or without Sam--he really hasn’t had time to do much else. But he still feels like he’s just waiting from a text from Bucky. (Or more accurately, Storm.) He feels shitty about that, like he’s dropping everyone else in his life for this one person that he barely even knows. 

But at the same time, he can’t help it. 

He’d spent a week with Bucky, and sure they hadn’t _talked_ a whole lot, but everything, every moment had felt right. It’s like there was a restless piece of Steve’s heart that he hadn’t even known existed up until the very moment it got put back in place. 

And Steve knows that he shouldn’t put that much pressure on Bucky. Because they don’t know each other very well yet, and he doesn’t _love_ Bucky, yet. But he knows already that it wouldn’t take much work for Bucky to become his everything. 

And Steve has no right to do that to someone. 

He knows that he should get ahold of Storm, he should tell her that they should find someone else to help Bucky through his heat. Because he knows that he can’t do that rationally. But at the same time, he can’t stand the thought of Bucky being with someone else just because Steve said no. Or worse, of Bucky being alone because Steve said no. 

If Bucky wanted to sleep with half of the city, Steve wouldn’t be mad. But if Steve _forced_ him to sleep with someone else, to ask a stranger, when last time had probably been terrifying enough for him. 

Steve can’t bring himself to do that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 **From Storm Munroe: His heat started. Can you make it?**

Steve had been stretching, getting ready to start his workout for the day with Sam. “I.. uh… I think I’m going to have to cancel on you today.” 

“What? You’re already here?” 

“Yeah,” He can almost feel himself turning red as he packs his bag. “Something’s just come up. I have to go…” He considers lying for a second, but then immediately changes his mind. He won’t be able to work out with Sam for four or five days, at least, and so he’s going to have to tell him eventually. “It’s the omega. The one from last time. His heat just started.” 

Sam looks offended. “And when did you decide to help him again?”

“I got a text last week, from his doctor.” 

“Were you gonna mention it to me at some point?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I just did.” 

Steve can see that Sam has more that he would like to add to the conversation, but thankfully he seems to stop himself. “Don’t do anything that you’ll regret later, Steve.” 

“Aww, c’mon, Sam. You know me-”

“Exactly.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luckily, Steve’s apartment was on the way to Bucky’s, so he had enough time to change his clothes and grab a few extra pairs of clothes along with some other necessities. He grabbed food, hoping that Bucky wouldn’t take offense. Steve knows that Bucky _can_ feed himself, but he’s worried that the omega simply _won’t_. 

He feels nervous coming up to the room and knocking on the door. What if this time is different, what if both of them- 

Bucky opens the door. Steve tries to smile, offering up the bag of food as a sort of playful peace offering. “Do I have the right room?” 

The omega seems to be checking Steve out, looking him up and down slowly. Or maybe that’s just Steve’s brain seeing what it _wants_ to see. “I’m not sure, I don’t remember ordering takeout.” 

“I had already ordered,” Steve lies, trying to sound nonchalant. “and it was on my way. I figured we could eat, if you were feeling up to it.” 

Bucky just raises an eyebrow. “Plus you were worried I wouldn’t have any food again.” 

Steve laughs. “I may have been slightly worried that you wouldn’t have any food in the house.” 

“We can eat it now, while it’s still hot. I think I can keep from jumping you for an hour or so.” Steve tries not even process that idea. As if not thinking about the _beautiful_ smell that is rolling of Bucky in waves will make it go away. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Bucky asks as he grabs plates. At least Bucky sounds as awkward as Steve feels about the situation. 

“Sure,” Steve starts setting out the different takeout boxes. “Whatever you’re having is fine.” 

“So? What are we having.” Bucky asks as he hands Steve a soda. 

“There’s broccoli and beef, green pepper steak, and shrimp with snow peas. And then I got mixed vegetables, chicken fried rice, some dumplings, and a couple of egg rolls. They threw in some almond cakes for free.” Steve points to each box as he lists the different options off. Maybe he could have ordered less food, but he really wasn’t sure what Bucky would like, and he couldn’t remember what he had eaten the most of the first time. 

“Probably because they had to close for the day because you ordered all of their food? How many people were you planning on feeding with this?” 

“Just me. I like having leftovers.” Wow, Steve should really stop lying to make himself sound less creepy, because it’s not convincing or even normal. 

“I’d say.” Bucky, thankfully, seems to just shrug it off as no big deal as he starts slowly piling things onto his plate. Steve follows his lead. “What the fuck? Why are some of these dumplings green?”

“They’re vegetable dumplings. Aren’t they always green?” 

“I don’t know what kind of weird chinese place you’ve been going to, but-” 

“They taste exactly the same.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t trust green foods that aren’t vegetables. It’s weird.”

Steve considers pointing out the fact that there are a plethora of green foods that aren’t vegetables, but restrains himself. He sticks his fork into one of them and holds it out to Bucky. “Just try it.” 

“No.” Bucky sounds a little bit like a stubborn child, but Steve really can’t find it within himself to _care_. 

“Bucky, you ate them last time,” Steve knows that it’s not fair to do this, not while Bucky’s heat is starting, but he can’t help himself. “Trust me,” He lets his voice pitch downward, slow and smooth. “I remember.” 

And Bucky listens. He opens his mouth around the fork. Steve can’t take his eyes off of Bucky’s perfect lips. 

Steve’s pretty sure that his brain shorted out for a second before Bucky speaks again.“So you’re right,” He admits, “It tastes the same.” 

“I told you.” Steve has to consciously keep his voice even, and even with the extra effort, even he can tell that it sounds a little strained. He tries to keep himself in check. This is about Bucky, about what Bucky wants, and if Bucky wants to eat and relax awhile before they get around to any of the _other_ stuff, well. Then that’s what they’ll have to do. 

“You know,” Bucky suggests. “We could cover the food-” 

Bucky doesn’t even finish his sentence before Steve is stacking up the takeout containers, quickly getting everything back into the plastic bag. He magically finds room in the fridge for everything, and within two minutes he’s pulling Bucky along towards the bedroom. Luckily, he knows where it’s at this time. 

“A little eager, aren’t we?” Bucky laughs, but follows Steve. Bucky sounds happy, relaxed. Steve strains to hear even the smallest hint of reluctance on Bucky’s part, but doesn’t notice anything. Good. 

Steve lightly pushes Bucky onto the bed, enjoying the way that Bucky’s eyes rake over him. He scents Bucky, not even trying to restrain himself anymore. “Can you not smell yourself? You would be fucking eager too.” 

Steve begins to undress both of them, taking his time, removing each piece slowly and deliberately. He makes sure to give Bucky plenty of time to tell him to stop. He doesn’t hear anything but contented sighs as he ghosts his hand over Bucky’s skin. He tries to touch every part of Bucky, though he avoids the omega’s ass, dick, and mouth. They’ll be plenty of time for that later. For right now, when they are both in a relatively conscious frame of mind, he wants to feel what the rest of Bucky feels like. 

By the time they’re both in just their briefs, Steve can see that Bucky’s dick is almost completely hard, he can smell the slick running down his thighs.

He licks a slow trail up Bucky’s thighs, following the thin line the slick has made. Bucky whines, and Steve’s immediate reaction is to tear the remaining clothes off of both of them and get Bucky ready to be fucked as quickly as possible, but he stops himself. They’re going to spend the next couple of days doing _exactly_ that. They both deserve more than that. He stays where he’s at. 

“Steve,” Bucky begs. “More, please?” Bucky’s whine at the end, the _need_ in his voice, that stops Steve in his teasing immediately. He pulls down Bucky’s briefs and throws the omega’s legs over his shoulders. He starts lapping at the omega’s entrance while tearing off his own underwear. 

Bucky, apparently still at least somewhat rational, hands him a condom. _Fuck_ Steve admonishes himself. _I almost forgot._ He continues to rim Bucky as he opens up the foil and puts the condom on his hardening dick. 

Steve isn’t even aware that Bucky is _close_ when he comes. “Shit, Steve!” The omega yells as he comes. Bucky doesn’t even take a few moments to enjoy what should be the relaxing aftershocks of his orgasm. “Fuck me,” He demands. “Now.”

Steve doesn’t even try to argue. Bucky moves his legs from above Steve’s shoulders to around his waist. 

“Shit wait!” Steve stops all movements as he realizes what’s about to happen. 

“What?” Steve would take the time to laugh at how pissed Bucky sounds if he wasn’t in the middle of something _very important_

“Do you want to be on top? Or me?” 

“Fuck, Steve! It doesn’t matter, just fuck me.” Bucky reconsiders for a second, and then decides. “You on top.” 

Steve doesn’t waste any time, pushing in slowly without any warning. God bless heat, because Bucky seems to adjust automatically without even a whine of discomfort. 

Steve begins to thrust into Bucky right away, intentionally controlling the angle. 

Bucky doesn’t take long before he’s keening again. “Steve, ‘m so close.” He mumbles. 

Steve can already feeling his knot growing, edging closer to completion with every second. As Steve pounds into the omega, he can feel himself teetering on the edge. 

When they come, they come together, both of them crying out. 

“Shit, Bucky.” Steve is practically heaving as he lays himself down across Bucky’s chest. If they’re going to be effectively locked together for the next half hour, they should get comfortable. “Did I hurt you? I felt like that was kind of fast.” 

“Nah, you’re fine. I wanted it just as much as you did.” 

Steve releases a breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding in. His entire body begins to relax, his brain congratulating him for completing the one biological thing that his body feels the need to do. “Bucky,” Steve mumbles. “I think I’m going to sleep for just a bit. Wake me up whenever.” 

And without another word, Steve is asleep.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH I feel like this chapter took me forever to write! Many apologies, and hopefully the next one will be up MUCH faster! (Also: I couldn't go to any of the Women's Marches, but they made me so happy that I wanted to get a chapter out today. So... probably also lots of typos... sorry...)

Chapter 5 

“Steve?” 

It takes Steve a couple of moments to realize where he’s at or what’s happening. It’s as if the strange--delicious--smell that surrounds him caused his brain to short circuit. And he’s warm, so warm and comfortable, and _shit_. “Shit, I didn’t mean to sleep that long. Are you okay?” 

Bucky has never looked so beautiful as he appears right now, Steve is sure of it. The way he laughs at Steve alone is perfect, but everything else is just… it’s almost too much. “Yeah, I slept too. I guess my body decided being trapped by you was close enough to fucking.” Steve can’t help but feel guilty, he rubs his arms as he searches for something to say, some way to apologize, but Bucky stops him. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I’m glad we both got some sleep. We’ll need the energy.” 

“Oh, will we?” Steve can’t help raising an eyebrow as Bucky sits up against his headboard. “What exactly are we going to need that energy for?” Steve brings himself closer to Bucky, playfully trapping him.

Bucky, impressively, keeps a completely neutral expression, as if they were talking about walking through the park instead of Bucky being fucked. “I was thinking we could clean my apartment. I don’t _remember_ the last time I cleaned out the shower…” 

“Oh, yes, baby.” Steve throws his voice just a little, making it sound breathy and needy. “Talk dirty to me.” 

That seems to just egg Bucky on more, because he keeps going. “Do you know how to do taxes? Because I have no idea. You could show me how to do taxes?” 

“Kinky.” And that seems to break the last bit of Bucky’s resolve, because he starts _giggling_. The sound is clear and perfect and Steve wants to cuddle Bucky into a corner and never let him out again. He pushes away all thoughts concerning why exactly that plan of action wouldn’t work. “Did you just hear yourself? Because that was a giggle. I didn’t know adults could even make that sound.” 

“Fuck off.” Bucky crosses his arms and appears to almost point. _Aww, yes. Very mature.”_

“Oh, no. Don’t try to get tough with me now. I just heard you freaking giggle, I can never take you seriously again, ever. Sorry.” 

“Steve.” Bucky whines. “Stop it.” 

“Okay, fine. I can _pretend_ to take you seriously. But that’s all I’m promising.” 

“God,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “you’re such an alpha.” 

Steve lets the smile drop from his face, doing his best impression of _that fucking smirk_ that omegas seem to complain about. “I don’t remember you complaining about that earlier.” 

Bucky’s scent had been heavy before, but that’s nothing compared to now. He can see beads of sweat already starting to appear across Bucky’s skin, and Steve can almost hear the thud of the omega’s heart in his chest. He can definitely feel the pounding of his own. 

Bucky’s scent begins to roll off of him in waves, an almost overwhelming amount. Steve can smell the need and the want like they’re tangible things that need to be taken care of. Steve crowds Bucky even closer as the omega smiles up at him. “I don’t know if I remember much of what happened earlier. Gonna remind me?” 

Steve growls--and doesn’t even think about it long enough to feel embarrassed--and climbs on top of Bucky. “You want to be on top or bottom this time?” It’s like there’s a constant, soft voice in the back of Steve’s head. _Make Bucky comfortable, keep your omega happy_

“Bottom.” Bucky doesn’t even seem to have to think about it, and Steve isn’t willing to admit how happy that makes him. Knowing that Bucky, _his omega_ , trusts him enough to do this, nothing compares to that feeling. Steve can already feel his knot weighing heavily down, almost embarrassingly close to popping. Steve notices Bucky’s eyes widening with lust as he sneaks a peak, and he can’t help but groaning as Bucky turns himself around, presenting his ass up to Steve like the most beautiful gift in the history of mankind. 

As eager as Steve is, he can’t help making a few detours as he explores Bucky’s body, trying to touch every inch of the omega’s skin. Bucky is tensing up under him, making eager, repetitive, soft sounds that he probably doesn’t even realize are happening. “Oh, oh, oh, oh,” over and over and over again. 

“Steve,” Bucky whines. “I need you.” 

Steve tries to speed up his movements, but he still avoids certain areas. He’s experimenting; some very deep, primal part of his brain is in the driver’s seat, Steve is just along for the ride. Steve is just as surprised as Bucky is when Steve bites down--not too hard--on a seemingly random place on Bucky’s thigh. 

Bucky’s reaction is… worth it. Steve gives him a couple of seconds to recover. 

He can tell that Bucky is starting to become impatient. Each sound, each movement is over-exaggerated, full of _need_ and _want_. Steve finally decides that the omega has had enough. “Give me two seconds.” 

“God, Steve.” Bucky whines, the words sounding long and drawn out. “Next time, condom _before_ foreplay.” 

“Whatever you say, Bucky.” Steve agrees quickly as he finishes getting the condom on. 

“Well then fuck me, asshole.” 

“Now, now,” Steve swats Bucky lightly on the ass. “That’s not a very good way to get what you want, now is it?”

“Steve!” Bucky’s voice is high-pitched and whiny and beautiful. 

“Look at you,” Steve can’t help but feel smug smug. “All turned on and begging for it.” He begins to toy with Bucky, rubbing himself just over Bucky’s entrance, never actually going in. “Bet nobody else knows just how desperate you are for my knot.” Slowly, so slowly, Steve begins to push into Bucky. 

Bucky whines again. “Please, shit Stevie, fuck me.” 

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.” Steve wastes no more time before pushing into Bucky.

As Steve starts pumping in and out of Bucky, he has difficulty keeping a steady rhythm. Bucky gasps with each movement, pushing back against Steve, obviously trying to Steve to hurry about, the desperate _wanting_ he must be feeling outweighing his desire to slow down. 

Either minutes or hours--it’s hard to tell--later, Steve can feel himself edging closer to completion. “Baby, this okay?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Steve, just _finish_.” 

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice, he pushes in even deeper, and he can feel his knot popping out as Bucky begins to shake with his own orgasm. 

When they are both finished, Steve has to take a few moments to catch his breath. His whole body feels like a deadweight, and all he wants to do is cuddle into Bucky, hold him close and never let him go. He knows they should be getting sleep while they can, but Steve’s not tired. Bucky’s scent alone is like an espresso, just his smell feels like all the strength of a large coffee without any of the jitters. 

Steve slowly begins to card his fingers through Bucky’s hair, unable to resist the pull he has to touch Bucky everywhere. Bucky begins to hum as he does so. “You like this? When I play with your hair.” Bucky groans approvingly, and Steve can’t help but smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Laying with Bucky, warm and sweaty from sex, proves that time is fluid. It feels like hours, but when Steve glances at the alarm clock, it can’t have been more than 30 minutes. Steve just keeps playing with Bucky’s hair. Steve has never felt so comfortable in his life. He knows that Bucky is supposed to be the one distracted by his heat, but Steve is feeling a little drunk himself. 

He’s shocked out of his thoughts when Bucky talks. “Steve?” 

“Yeah, Bucky?” Steve can’t help but feeling a little anxious. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

Steve laughs, feeling Bucky’s soft body underneath him. “Bucky, I’m pretty sure this is the most personal position you can be in with a person. Ask away.” 

“Could you explain to me why you’re single. You’re young, and super fucking attractive. You have a job, and you seem to shower on a regular basis. And did I mention your arms? Because I feel like your arms deserve a mention.” 

“Bucky, I could ask you all of the same question. Though, I would probably mention your ass.” He then pokes at said body part. “Yes, definitely your ass.” 

“That’s different.” Bucky sounds defensive and for a second Steve considers backing off. _Fuck it._

“Oh really? How?” 

“I-” Bucky stops. Steve can almost feel Bucky’s brain trying to find the right words. “I was in a relationship. I very committed one. We weren’t bonded or anything, but I thought we would be eventually. And then. Well some things happened. And I’m just not ready for a relationship.” 

Steve can tell that it’s much more complicated than Bucky is making it out to be, but he also knows it’s none of his business. As much as it pains him, as much as he’d prefer it to be different, he is not Bucky’s boyfriend. He’s here to be a knot for Bucky, to make sure he feeds himself, and makes sure he’s safe. Nothing more. So, regardless of the fact that he _needs to ask what Bucky means_ , he doesn’t. It’s not his question to ask. 

Bucky interrupts Steve’s thoughts. “What about you? Have you got a reason for being single?” Bucky’s tone is light, but strained, like it’s harder to speak than he’s letting on.” 

 

 _The man I want doesn’t want a boyfriend_ is what Steve _wants_ to say, but he knows better than that. He’s lucky that Bucky is okay with Steve spending heats with him, Steve knows it wouldn’t be fair to push for more, especially not right now. “My friends tell me I’m picky. A couple of years ago, I was always dating someone, just never the same someone, you know? I would break up with these people, if you can calling it breaking up after just a couple of dates, and they’d always want some sort of an explanation, but I just didn’t have one. After a couple years, I just kind of gave up on the whole dating thing, I guess.” 

Steve knows that he’s not being completely fair to Bucky, not giving him all the information he should have when deciding if he trusts Steve enough be this intimate. He knows that he should tell Bucky as soon as his heat ends so that Bucky can have enough time to find someone else to help him through his next heat. He _knows_ that he should. 

As he continues to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, breathing in his scent and feeling the warmth of his body, he’s pretty sure that he won’t, not this time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve wakes up, and this time he knows exactly where he is. Bucky’s scent is as sweet as ever, and for a few, fast minutes he simply relishes the way it feels to wake up like this, wrapped up in your lover’s-- _can he call Bucky that, a lover?_ \--scent, warm and safe and happy. 

Steve’s stomach growls, and he slowly untangles himself from Bucky’s grasps, taking care not to wake him up. Bucky only takes a couple seconds to settle into a new position, but Steve watches him for a few more seconds. He tells himself that it’s simply to make sure he remains asleep. 

In the kitchen, it only takes him a few seconds to find all of the ingredient for eggs, one of the only meals he can consistently make in a respectable way. 

He takes his time. He lets the butter begin to melt in the pan, and begins whisking the eggs, milk, salt, and pepper together in a small bowl. He loves the sizzle as he pours the mixture into the pan. He watches it begin to cook, only occasionally stirring the contents to make sure it doesn’t stick to the pan. 

He pretends he isn’t thinking about how domestic this is as he pulls plates out of the cabinet and orange juice out of the fridge. 

“Steve?” 

Bucky’s voice alone puts Steve’s entire being on high alert. “In the kitchen!” 

Just seconds later, Bucky pads into the kitchen. Even after everything they’ve done since his heat started, and with very little clothes on--Steve had slipped some boxers on the omega after he had fallen asleep--he somehow appears innocent. Steve can just imagine how adorable he would look after waking up on a normal morning. A shirt that’s too big on him-- _one of Steve’s_ , his brain supplies--with the long sleeves pulled down, covering his hands. Bucky’s hair is messy, and his eyes appear heavy with sleep, even his blinking is slower. 

Steve can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. This is _Bucky’s_ home. “I thought some food might be a good idea? It’s just scrambled eggs. It’s one of the things I can usually make-” 

“Hey, you’re just making sure we don’t starve.” Bucky is blushing, looking just as uncomfortable as Steve feels. “Being a good alpha and all that.” 

_A good alpha_ , Steve can almost feel his heart stutter at the words coming out of Bucky’s mouth. He tries not to think about it too much, focusing on making sure that Bucky gets something to eat. He puts a large portion of eggs on a plate and hands it to Bucky. 

Bucky seems to think the eggs are edible if nothing else. Steve can usually tell when people are only pretending to enjoy his food, it’s happened often enough for Steve to be fairly familiar with the signs. He worries for a second that he might be watching Bucky slightly too intently to be considered normal, but then he decides that he doesn’t really care. Bucky needs taken care of, that’s why Steve is here in the first place. Steve will make sure that he at least eats some decent food. 

Bucky forces Steve to leave the dishes for later. He refuses, on principle apparently, to do chores during heat, and he’s forcing Steve to give them up as well. Steve almost argues for a second, but then quickly gives it up as a lost cause. 

Steve at least puts all the dishes required for making the eggs in the sink. Steve’s not going to force Bucky to have to clean up after him later. 

For a few seconds, after the kitchen is as clean as Steve can make it without Bucky telling him to stop and relax, when it’s slightly awkward. Bucky’s heat, while not over, is definitely on a downward spike. It might be _hours_ before he wants fucked again. While Steve would, of course, be agreeable to simply going back to Bucky’s bedroom and cuddling until the desire strikes, he’s not sure if Bucky would be interested.

Bucky doesn’t let the awkward silence stretch out very long. “So I was thinking,” He starts. “while this is all pretty relaxed, that a shower might be a good idea.” 

Steve’s is selfish, and because he is selfish, the idea of Bucky in a shower, alone, without Steve, is slightly upsetting. He attempts to stop Bucky from noticing that, of course. “Sure,” He agrees. “you’re probably right. Just let me know when-” 

“Steve.”Bucky interrupts him. “I’m not the only one here who could probably use a shower.” Steve’s brain seems to have short circuited, because there was something about that statement that he _should_ have understood that he simply _can’t_ “I was thinking that we could both take a shower. You know, together.” _Oh_ “To conserve water,” Bucky adds hastily “obviously.” 

“Obviously.” Steve can’t help but to smile. 

Bucky practically runs to the shower, Steve hot on his heels. They both hurry while undressing, not taking the time to tease the other whatsoever. 

The shower is hot by the time they get in. They’re both barely able to fit under the hot spray, but Steve loves it. 

“So, do you want to fuck? Or clean?” Steve starts backing Bucky up against the side of the shower, not able to keep his hands off of his omega. 

“Both…” Bucky’s voice is breathy and almost distracted, as if he can’t quite put the right words together. 

Steve can’t help but rolling his eyes. “Well, yeah. I meant the order.” 

Bucky thinks for a second. “If we fucked after, wouldn’t we just need to clean ourselves again?”

Steve slowly pushes Bucky completely against the shower walls. “Exactly what I was thinking.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“We might not have thought this one through all that well.” The water is continuing to pour over both of them. 

Steve laughs. “At least I remembered a condom.” 

“That’s true. But your knot lasts for fucking ever. We’re going to run out of hot water.” 

“I guess we’re going to have to clean before that then.” 

“Fuck you, Steve.” 

“I think that would be difficult in our current-”

“Hand me the freaking soap.” Steve can imagine, if not _actually_ see the pout that Bucky does with his lips. 

It’s beautiful. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve knows that Bucky’s heat is over. His scent is still heady and sweet and perfect, but it’s different. It’s hard to describe, the change Bucky goes through, but it’s _there_ and Steve is getting better at recognizing the differences. 

Bucky takes a shower, alone this time, and Steve cleans up all of the mess they had made in the last several days. He might not be able to help Bucky with _everything_ , but he can at least make his life a little bit easier. 

By the time Bucky is out and clean, even the faintest trace of his heat-smell gone, his apartment is just as clean as it was before Steve arrived. Possibly even just a little bit cleaner. 

Steve doesn’t want to go. But just as surely as he knows he doesn’t want to go, he also knows how wildly inappropriate it would be to _tell_ Bucky that. Bucky may not be in heat anymore, but he might still be experiencing some of the aftereffects, and Steve’s alpha scent doesn’t disappear or even diminish just because Bucky’s heat is over. It wouldn’t be fair to sway Bucky when he might not be in complete control of his mental facilities yet. 

“So,” He starts instead. “I’ll… I guess I’ll... “ 

“Next time?” Bucky asks, and Steve’s heart skips a beat. “If you’re not busy?” 

“I--” Steve can hardly contain himself, not wanting to show _too_ much emotion about the idea. “Definitely. I didn’t want to presume anything…” 

“Steve, I’ll be okay with this for as long as you are.” 

Steve can’t help but smiling.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! I SUCK!!! Promise the next chapter will (should...) be up MUCH faster than this one... (ALSO: We're almost caught up to where Part I left off!!!)

The pounding of his feet on the pavement is soothing; the repetitive motions relax Steve more than anything--besides sex and booze--ever has, and running is a lot less painful than a hangover, and a hell of a lot less complicated than sex. 

Though… given the three… 

_Whatever._ He knows that he’s been putting more effort into his workouts for a reason. It’s the only time his mind really clears, and the only time he can focus on something that isn’t a particular omega. 

It’s as if Bucky has somehow imprinted himself in the back of his mind, burrowing in so deep that something Steve can do will stop the constant nagging reminders. He gets up and the morning and hopes that Bucky’s taking care of himself, eating breakfast and brushing his teeth. He goes to bed at night hoping Bucky doesn’t feel quite so lonely as Steve. Though the alpha would be okay with him being just a _little_ lonely. 

Sam has been very vocal about how annoying Steve’s new commitment to physical fitness has been to him, personally. 

“Damn, man. Don’t you think you could just cut me a little slack? Not all of us are a perfect fucking specimen.” 

Steve has been sitting at the bench that marks the end of their route for a while. “I’ve only been done for five minutes. You’re starting to catch up to me.” It was ten minutes, and Steve slowed down there at the end for a cool down, but he doesn’t feel the need to make Sam feel like shit for something he can’t help. Steve is just faster than him, there’s nothing either one of them can do about it. 

“Fuck, you’ve probably done about 4 sets of sit ups too, haven’t you?”

“Of course not, Sam. You need to relax.” Steve doesn’t _do_ sit ups, they’re bad for your back. He planked for about four minutes and then did a couple sets of triangle push ups. “Besides, aren’t we supposed to meet Riley pretty soon?” 

“Fuck, man.” Sam checks his watch. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get our asses in gear. I love the man, but Riley doesn’t do well with waiting.” 

Steve laughs as he follows the other alpha, neither one of them wanting to deal with Riley’s patented Glare of Death if they make him wait. As they’re walking, they don’t speak. It’s a companionable silence, one they both enjoy after knowing each other for more than ten years. It’s comfortable, not feeling pressured to make small talk with the person you’re spending time with. 

Steve’s not sure what it is, but there’s something bothering him, some nagging sensation in the very back of his mind that he can’t quite pinpoint the cause of. 

And then he stops in the middle of the street, two strangers bumping into him before Sam even realizes that he’s stopped. 

“Man, what the fuck?” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, though the other pedestrians more than make up for it. The other alpha just seems concerned about Steve. 

“You love him?” 

Steve knows he could have put that more eloquently on a regular day, but something in his head is just _off_ at the moment, and he doesn’t even attempt to clarify. 

Luckily, Sam has always been pretty bright, and he seems to puzzle out the meaning after only a few seconds. “You mean Riley?” 

They made their way to the side of the traffic now, no longer being jostled by quite so many people. Steve’s not sure why this is such an important conversation, but he knows _somehow_ that it is. “Yeah. I mean Riley.” 

Sam looks down at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. “I… Yeah. I do. I mean I have, for a while now. I… Why?”

“You told him yet?” The question is blunt, personal, and probably inappropriate. Steve knows that, but nevertheless, he needs to know the answer to the question. 

“Uh… Not in so many words. Not lucid anyway. There’s been a couple times when… well it’s sort of slipped out.” Steve shudders at the idea, but Sam trudges on, ignoring Steve’s discomfort with discussing his friend’s sex life. “But I’ve never, y’know, sat him down and looked him in the eye to say it.” 

“How could you--How’d you know?” 

That makes Sam laugh for real, light and carefree. “You just _do_ , Steve. It’s not something I could explain to anyone. Hell, I couldn’t even give you a timeline, or even a general idea of when it happened. One day I just realized that I had been in love with him for _weeks_ without realizing it, months maybe even. It’s the way he laughs at my jokes, and laughs at me for making them when they’re not funny. The way he sings with his choir on Sunday morning, and plays with his nieces and nephews at his mom’s house after. He helps with a kid’s reading program for underprivileged kids three days a week, have I told you that? He comes home _crying_ sometimes, knowing some of the things these _children_ have experienced, but he goes back every single time, because he knows that he’s making a difference in their lives. It’s just… It’s so many reasons.”

Steve believes Sam, not just because Sam is his friend and he knows that he wouldn’t lie about something like this, but because he can see the way Sam’s eyes light up as he talks about his boyfriend. He’s really in love with him. 

“Why’d you want to know, Steve?” Sam, though still looking a little lovestruck just from _talking_ about Riley, has a suspicious glint to his eye. 

“It’s… No reason.” Sam looks as if he’s going to argue with him, so Steve hurriedly grabs ahold of his friend’s arm. “C’mon, man. Riley’s going to kill us both if we’re late.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve!” Steve is always taken aback by the sheer force of Riley’s presence. Steve hates generalizations of people’s personalities, but Riley is the most stereotypical southern belle that Steve has ever met. He may have spent the last ten or fifteen years of his life in New York--barring the tour he did for the US military--but Riley had originally grown up in the lap of southern luxury, and it shows in the way he speaks and presents himself. He’s not vapid or self-centered by any means, but outward appearance is important to him, even if the appearance is just a facade he wears in public. 

Today is no different. Sam and Steve are still in their sweaty workout clothes, but Riley is dressed to the nines, a designer jean jacket that would make Steve look like he was trying too hard just makes Riley look irresistible. He may not be Steve’s type, but Steve can definitely appreciate what Sam sees in him. 

“It’s been so long, Stevie-boy. Sam _does_ try to hide you from me, I’m afraid.”

“Worried that you’re going to come to your senses one of these days and ride of into the sunset with me, probably.” 

“Oh, Stevie, stop it. You’re making my heart flutter.” 

Steve’s never appreciated before how very relaxed Sam remains any time Steve and Riley flirt. It’s all jokes of course, Sam and Riley are about as perfect as you can get together, but Steve can’t help but consider how much growling he would probably be doing if Sam was flirting this way with Bucky. 

They take a seat at the booth Riley’s selected for them. 

“How was your run, darling?” Riley’s heart-eyes are just as bad as Sam’s as they slide into the booth next to each other. Just a few months ago, Steve probably would have wanted to throw up at the very idea, but now he can’t help but find it endearing. 

“Mine was perfect, even _if_ Rogers was sprinting like an escaped felon the entire time.” 

“You should join us sometime,” Steve suggests. “Maybe then Sam wouldn’t get quite so sore about me beating him every time.” 

“Thanks for the offer, dear, but I don’t _sweat_ , not in front of other people. I’ll stay in my heat-controlled gym, thank you very much.” 

An ornery grin spreads across Sam’s face. “You don’t seem to have a problem sweating in front of others when-” 

“Sam Wilson, I swear! One more word, and… Riley doesn’t articulate what exactly his plans are as he continues to swat at his boyfriend. 

Steve can’t help but laugh at Sam’s facial expression. It’s a strange mixture of embarrassment, love, and being turned on. 

Sure, maybe he’s lonely sometimes, but he couldn’t ask for better friends. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve is lucky enough to have a couple coffee shops in the area that will sell his work. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship. The shops don’t have to pay for the expensive paintings that people expect to see on a coffee shop's walls, they can constantly change the decorations, and Steve makes some extra spending money and broadens his moderate fanbase. Sam has been getting on him the last couple of months to start a Patreon account or something, but honestly he would rather meet his customers in person _anyway_. 

He makes his rounds every week or so, seeing if any of his work has sold, checking if he needs to slightly lower the price of a piece, and making sure that all of his allotted space is filled. Some of the baristas have become what he considers friends, so sometimes he gets a drink and sits for a spell before heading out. 

Pietro and Wanda are his favorite baristas, they actually worked together at the shop before Steve had started his security gig, so any time that they’re working, he makes sure to stay and chat--sometimes even waiting for rushes to end--so that they can catch back up. They hardly ever work together, so when he walks in the door and notices both of them, he knows that he’s going to wait for the end of the lunch rush before leaving. He sits down with his large black coffee and waits for the crowd to thin out. It’s not until he’s alway done that he notices the couple sitting across the room. 

_Bucky._

His immediate reaction is to get up and say hello to the omega, but he stops himself. He knows that he’s probably with a friend. He’s not close enough to be able to tell the _friend’s_ designation, but he’s guessing alpha, maybe beta, _maybe more than friend?_ He tells himself that Bucky _deserves_ to have someone in his life who cares about him, but he can’t help feeling just the slightest hint of jealousy. 

_Fucking hormones._

Though he’d be lying to himself to pretend that it’s _just_ the hormones. There’s something else, something deeper than just the sex that pulls Bucky in. Not just physically, though Bucky _is_ hot as hell, but even his laugh, the way he can be snarky even in the middle of the throes of heat, it all just calls out to a part of Steve’s mind that he hadn’t even realized was there. 

Bucky feels like home. 

It would be rude to interrupt his lunch though, whether or not it’s some sort of date. Hell, _especially_ if it’s a date. What could be more awkward than having to explain exactly how they know each other. Steve can imagine it now, trying to fumble out some excuse when the truth is a simple “We fuck because we’re both alone and biology sucks.” 

Yeah, no thanks, Steve will pass on that conversation. 

He can’t help keeping an eye on the couple, relishing to see how Bucky behaves in a more standard environment. His laugh is just as beautiful as Steve remembers. The pair seem to be close, if not dating. Steve feels borderline creepy as he watches them rib at each other, even if he _can’t_ hear the conversations taking place. 

Never has Steve believed in fate more than when the woman gets up--he’s sure she’s an alpha now--and heads towards the bathroom. Bucky seems to be watching her get away when Steve pushes himself to greet the omega. 

“Bucky?” An intense wave of panic spreads throughout his entire body. This could go wrong on so many levels, but there’s no turning back now. 

Bucky seems to not have noticed him approaching, because he seems shocked when he turns around. “Steve?”

“How’s it going, Bucky?” He probably should have thought of some sort of _reason_ for greeting the omega in a public setting, but he had been too busy working up the courage to speak to Bucky in the first place to worry about what was actually going to be said. 

“Pretty good, I think. You?” Bucky sounds vaguely uncomfortable and mildly curious, toned down versions of what Steve is feeling himself. 

“The same.” Steve tries to smile casually. “I’ve never seen you in here before.” He tries his hardest to sound lighthearted and not at all stalker-y. 

“Oh,” Bucky blushes, as if Steve had accused him of something, “this is the first time I’ve been here. Do you come here a lot?” Steve can’t help but thank Bucky internally for attempting to keep the conversation going. 

“Yeah, I used to work here, actually. The bodyguard thing pays better, but they still let me sell my stuff here.”

“The art, it’s yours?”

Steve blushes. He had probably sounded like he was bragging, the way he nonchalantly mentioned having art hanging up. “Not all of it, but probably about a quarter of it. They don’t sell all that often, to be honest, but I still enjoy having them seen by people.” Bucky nods “But what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m with Nat-” 

“The alpha?” He says it, knowing that he sounds like a Grade A asshole as soon as the words leave his mouth. Smelling the alpha, Nat’s, scent coming off Bucky has unlocked weird parts of his brain, and apparently turned off his filter. 

 

“Yeah, she is. How could you tell?” He’s worried for a second that his tone has pissed the omega off, but it seems to be okay. 

“You kind of reek of her.” He tries to keep his tone light again, but fails miserably this time. 

“She’s my boss. We spend a lot of time together. And honestly, it’s not any of your business, is it?” Bucky sounds _pissed_ and defensive, and rightly so. Steve can’t decide why he would say, under _any_ circumstance, the things he had just said. 

_God_ , Steve is such an idiot. “I’m sorry, Bucky. It’s really not my place. It- I- I’m not into alphas, but she really is gorgeous, I completely-”

“She has a mate, and is practically my sister. The most I’ve ever done with Nat is flirt with her at some work parties, just to mess with the rumor mill.” 

Bucky was probably trying to make him feel better about the situation, but it honestly just makes the guilt about a million times worse. “I still shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t worry about it. Everybody is allowed to let their instincts take over occasionally. Hell, you’ve seen mine take over twice now, I think I can allow you one tiny slip up.” The flippant air to his voice sounds forced, but Steve is grateful for it regardless. Any other omega--or _any_ person, in their right mind would be telling Steve to go fuck himself right about now. 

“Thank you, Bucky.” Steve’s nerves skyrocket as he realizes what he should _actually_ be talking to Bucky about. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about though…” 

Bucky’s expression goes almost blank for a moment, as if internally deciding what he’s going to do. “Bucky?” 

“Oh, sorry about that.” He apologizes immediately. ”I guess I’m a little tired. I haven’t been getting as much sleep as I probably should be.” 

“No problem.” God, he’s so lucky that Bucky isn’t telling him to fuck off yet. “I was just thinking the other day. If we’re going to continue this... arrangement that we have, it doesn’t really make sense for us to keep using the clinic as a moderator, does it? I mean, if that’s what it takes to keep you comfortable, no big deal. It’s not a hardship, really, I just thought it might be easier if maybe-” 

“Steve, is this rambling supposed to be you asking to exchange numbers?” Bucky’s facial expression has done a complete 180 from just a few moments ago, now he seems to be on the verge of laughing. 

“That’s exactly what I was thinking, actually. I was going to ask before I left the last time, but then we got…” Steve can feel himself blushing. “...sidetracked, and I completely forgot about it.”

“Oh?” Bucky remembers. “You mean sidetracked that time I asked you to-” 

“Yes.” Steve blurts out quickly, before Bucky can force him to embarrass himself in the middle of a public, very crowded, coffee shop. “That’s what I mean.” 

“It would be easier to just text you. And faster too. I always appreciate fast, but especially during heat.” 

Steve holds out his phone. “Do you want to put my number in then?” 

Bucky nods and hands Steve his phone. Steve can see the omega internally debating what to put in his phone, biting his lip like he’s in a freaking porno. Steve doesn’t even consider it, quickly typing in **Steve Rogers** without a second thought. If Bucky is going to trust Steve with his phone number, Steve is going to trust Bucky his his last name. The decision is easy. 

Smiling, he hands his phone back to Steve. Bucky’s careful deliberation makes Steve second guess his own entry. Maybe Bucky is going to use this as a way to flirt… Maybe Steve is taking this whole thing way too seriously. He finally decides to throw the issue to the wind, and places a cute like **:)** after his name, quickly saving the entry and handing the phone back to Bucky. 

Before Bucky even looks at his phone, Steve’s talking again. “Don’t hesitate to call, even if it has nothing to do with… you know. Any time.” 

Before they can say any awkward goodbyes, Steve makes his exit. As he’s walking down the street, he takes a look at the entry Bucky had added to his phone. **Best Ass in NYC (aka Bucky)**. Steve can’t help but laugh.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck. I took way too long to write this, and there are probably lots of errors. I might actually go back and reread this? Maybe. But if you find any inconsistencies/errors, just let me know! You guys are the BEST.

Having Bucky’s number in his phone is distracting. 

Not because Steve has tried to text him yet, but because Steve _could_ theoretically text him. He’s lost count of the minutes that he’s spent just staring at the name. **Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky)** , it’s a stupid thing to get almost giddy over. His finger seems to start hovering over the _message_ button, completely independently, at least a couple of times a day. 

Things happen that Steve wants to be able to tell Bucky about. The way Sam falls over after a cool down, the way the sun looks in the morning, the guy who flipped Steve off for no apparent reason. He wants to tell Bucky the stories and make him laugh. 

Finally, it’s Bucky who texts him. 

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): I have a question. For science how much does the amount an omega eats ACTUALLY affect how attractive alphas find them?**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): I feel like I need a little bit more explanation? Why would the amount an omega eats affect how they attractive they are?! Do you mean how thin? Because that’s a personal preference thing, usually.**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): No I don’t mean how thin. I mean the actual amount of food that you watch them eat. But your reply proves my point perfectly. thank you.**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Do I even want to ask what that was about?**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): It’s not very exciting. I was just in an argument with some girls from work.**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Well, I guess I’m glad I helped?**

And then it’s like all of the sudden _all_ he is doing is texting Bucky. It’s addicting. Not only does he usually reply fairly quickly, but the conversations are just so much _fun_. Steve can’t remember having this much fun just talking to someone in a really long time. 

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): fuck, marry, kill someone from Twilight, go.**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Aren’t u, being a big, strong, alpha, supposed to pretend that u don’t know anything about sparkling vampires?**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): You’re avoiding the question, Buck…**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Fuck u, Steve.**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Aww, Buck that’s sweet, but I wasn’t actually IN those books/movies…**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Kill Edward, fuck Edward’s muscley brother, marry the head werewolf**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Not gonna lie, I didn’t expect you to kill Rob Pat**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): C’mon. He’s totally a creeper.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam, of course, notices that something is up almost immediately. Being Sam, he also doesn’t say anything about it for the first couple of days. They spend a decent amount of free time together, running or eating most of them time, but he doesn’t _say_ anything. 

Until he does. 

They’ve just sat down at the counter of a newly-opened smoothie bar. Steve’s drink is a nice pink color, with just small hints blue. Sam’s is an unappetizing green. Sam is pretending to like his, or at least Steve _hopes_ that Sam is pretending, because it looks absolutely disgusting. 

“So,” Sam trails off for a few seconds, as if he hasn’t decided whether or not he’s going to continue his train of thought. 

Steve, who had been messing around on his phone, ( _probably_ not texting Steve...) just raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing…” Sam’s tone sounds more accusing than the actual words do. “It’s just… Who have you been texting?”

“Why, jealous?”

“Steve, you’re deflecting.” 

Steve scoffs loudly at the very idea, but doesn’t correct him. “I don’t see how it would be _your_ business anyway, don’t you have Riley? Isn’t _he_ the one you’re supposed to be worried about texting other people?” 

“So you _are_ texting someone?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say that.” 

“Wow, you’re shit at hiding things, you know that right?” 

Steve just takes a drink of his smoothie, grateful for the opportunity it gives to not answer for a few additional seconds. He _knows_ that Sam can’t really judge him for what’s happening. Both of the participants in… _whatever_ is between Steve and Bucky… are consenting adults. They are allowed to flirt over text messages; Steve shouldn’t feel guilty. 

Of course, that doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty. 

His phone buzzes in his hand, and he has to fight the urge to check it immediately. He knows that the text is from Bucky; the omega is about the only person Steve texts besides Sam. Sam just stares knowingly, glancing back and forth between Steve and the phone, one eyebrow raised, as if he’s daring Steve to check the text. 

Steve holds back. 

For about three seconds, that it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Sooooo… I MAY have been slightly drunk last night**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Oh really? I didn’t notice**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Fuck u Steve**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Oh! So you’re still drunk then?**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): ugh ur never gonna let me forget this 1 are u**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Nope.**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): God im never drinking again**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): :( Man I kind of like drunk Bucky. He was very smooth.**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): My personal favorite was “Culd use a ride tho if ya no wat i mean ;)”**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): Plz dont remind me. Im trying to clear my mind of everything I said**

**To Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): :( :( :( :(**

**From Best ass in NYC (aka Bucky): I just want u to know that im flipping u off rn.**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Steve had only left the table for all of three minutes. He had ran to the fridge, digging around until he managed to extract the leftover pizza from the night before, and then went straight back down to where he had been sitting. 

But now Sam, who had been happy just a few moments ago, has on his Angry Dad Face. 

Steve, though he’s not exactly sure what he’s in trouble ( _trouble_ like he’s a freaking 4 year old) _for_ , can’t help but feeling a little defensive. “What?” 

“I just want you to be honest with me, okay?” 

"Sam, what are you--” 

“Are you in a relationship with Bucky?” 

"Bucky? With… with Bucky? No. Why?” Steve grabs his phone, which he had left sitting on the couch next to Sam. “Did you read through my phone?” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “No, I just read the screen. Bucky’s name showed up about a dozen times in the 45 seconds that you were gone.” 

“We’re… we’re friends.” 

"Okay,” Sam cross his arms, but speaks diplomatically, like he hasn’t totally made up his mind over whether Steve is being a dumbass. “Have you still been helping him though, during his heat?”

“Just the two times.” 

“And you’re going to help him again?” 

Steve just shrugs. “We haven’t talked about it.” 

Sam sighs. “It might be a good idea. Your crush is only going to get worse.” 

"I don’t--” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to argue with you, Steve. But I also don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

"I’m not going to get hurt.” 

“If he told you tomorrow that he met someone, you wouldn’t be hurt?” 

"No,” Steve lies. He knows he’s lying. Hell, Sam probably knows that he’s lying. “I wouldn’t.” 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The phone ringing startles Steve awake. He considers--for about two seconds--not answering it. He could pretend that he hadn’t woken up… if it’s _that_ important, they’ll call back… 

**Call incoming: Best Ass in NYC (aka Bucky)**

_Shit._

He answers the phone. “Bucky?” 

Even through the phone, the omega sounds breathless. “Steve?” Not just breathless, _scared_. “Steve, I need help?” 

Steve had only woken up moments ago, but it’s as if suddenly all of his senses have been dialed to 10. “Are you okay? What’s going on, Bucky?” 

Bucky doesn’t say anything right away, though Steve can hear his breathing, still too fast, on the other end of the call. Still holding the phone against his ear, Steve is off the couch and out the door in a matter of seconds, barely taking the time to grab his leather jacket and put on his shoes. He doesn’t know what he’s walking into, but it’s chilly outside and he wants to be able to actually _help_ Bucky, whenever he finds out what’s wrong. 

“Steve.” Bucky sounds as if he’s on the verge of hyperventilating. “Steve, I need you. I don’t know what to do?” 

“Bucky take a deep breath. Can you breath with me?” Steve tries to breath deeply, loudly enough for Bucky to hear it through the phone. The omega seems to be at least attempting to regulate his breathing. “Now, I need you to tell me what’s going on and where you’re at, can you do that?” 

“My heat started. I didn’t think it was going to but it did. I’m so stupid. I don’t know what to do. Please help me.” 

_Fuck_ “I’m already out of my apartment, babe. You just need to tell me where I’m going.” 

Bucky gives him the street numbers and the name of the store. It’s less than a 10 minute walk. “Steve, I’m in a bathroom.” 

"That’s good.” Steve is running, not able to get the picture of Bucky trapped, alone, in a bathroom. “A bathroom is probably the best place for you to wait. I’m going to be there real soon, okay Buck?” 

“Don’t hang up, Steve. Please?” 

“I’m not going to hang up. I promise.” Steve’s pretty sure he couldn’t hang up even if he tried. Bucky’s voice… Steve knows that the omega is genuinely scared. 

"I’m so scared, Steve. I’m so scared.” 

“You’re safe, Bucky. You’re in a bathroom. You’ve got the door locked, right?” 

“He’s banging on it though. I’m so scared.” 

"Who?” Steve keeps running, but he’s seeing red. He’s pretty sure that he growls. He regrets it almost immediately, certain that the idea of an aggressive alpha is the last thing that Bucky wants to deal with right now. “Bucky. Who. Is banging. On the door?” He can’t hold himself back completely. There’s too many screaming signals in his brain, most of them screaming something along the lines of _OMEGA IN DANGER. BUCKY IN DANGER._

"I don’t know. An alpha. He saw me in the store. I think he noticed my smell before I even realized what was happening. Steve, I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have. I just. I needed bread. I didn’t think. Please come.” 

"It’s not your fault, Bucky. I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” The alpha, on the other hand, will not be fine. Not if Steve has anything to say about it. 

Steve continues to run as fast as he can down the street, knowing that he’s _almost_ there. He ignores the weird stares he’s getting. They don’t know what’s going on. 

"Steve?” Bucky’s voice--still terrified--spurs Steve into going even faster. 

“Yes?” Steve exhales at the word. His lungs are starting to scream at him in a way that’s very reminiscent of childhood. 

“He keeps saying things. Awful things.” 

"Would it help if I told you how I’m going to beat the shit out of this guy?” Steve pushes himself to run as fast as he can, despite the pain. 

Bucky doesn’t reply, and for a second Steve is worried that he’s scared the guy. Violent alphas are probably not his favorite topic of conversation at the moment. Before Steve can say anything about it though, he replies. “Steve, I don’t want you to get in trouble. It’s my-” 

"Not. It is not your fucking fault, Bucky. You should be able to leave the house without being assaulted.” The fact that Bucky blames himself even the _tiniest_ bit just pisses Steve off even more. 

"Are you almost here?” Bucky’s voice sounds more than desperate, and Steve can’t decide if he’d rather be holding the omega or beating the shit out of whatever asshole is currently scaring him. 

He’s pretty sure it’s a toss-up. 

"I’m so close, Bucky.” Steve’s already inside the store. Luckily, he’s pretty sure he remembers where the bathrooms are. He manages to avoid in awkward questions from a store manager by simply continuing to spring. “So close. Do you think you could hang up now? I think I see the fucker.” 

And there the guy is. He’s short, but solidly built. Not that Steve is worried. If the guy was smarter, he would already be running. 

"Don’t get hurt, Steve.” Bucky warn. 

"Oh, babe,” Steve doesn’t even recognize his own laugh. “I am definitely not the one you should be worried about.” 

Steve’s pretty sure that the alpha is about to start another stream of taunts when he pushes him away from the door. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, man?” The guy seems almost offended that Steve interrupted him. 

"I think maybe you should get the _fuck_ away.” 

The man spreads his feet a little wider and balls up his fists, as if he’s preparing to _fight_ Steve. Steve can’t help but hope that the other guy throws the first punch… until he remembers Bucky waiting on the other side of the door. 

Steve knows that he needs to finish this whole thing quickly. 

The other alpha is in a very awkward looking fighting stance. Steve knows that he could draw this out, really make the guy suffer, but he knows that he shouldn’t. He should get Bucky somewhere safe, somewhere he won’t be bothered. 

He doesn’t even give the guy a chance. He puts all of his force behind his swing and punches the guy squarely on the jaw. It only takes one hit, and the guy is out, falling to the floor with a satisfying _thump_. 

He knocks on the bathroom door, careful to tap lightly. “Bucky? Do you feel comfortable unlocking the door? If not I can-” 

Steve doesn’t even have time to finish. Bucky is up, pulling the door open, and dragging Steve into the bathroom. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I was going to do.” Bucky’s scent is overwhelming, Steve’s never smelled anything so delicious in his _life_. Steve pulls the omega as close to him as physically possible. 

_Mine._

“Bucky?” Steve hadn’t realized it, but he’s on the verge of tearing up. “We need to get you out of here. My apartment is closer, but we can go to yours if you would-” 

“Yours.” Steve’s never heard such a beautiful word in his life. 

"Okay.” Steve can’t help but smile at the idea. _Bucky_ in his _home_. “We need to hurry though, before that asshole comes to.” 

Steve takes off his leather jacket and throws it around Bucky’s shoulders, and just in case anybody didn’t quite get the message, he keeps his actual arm wrapped around Bucky as well. Bucky begins resting his head against Steve’s chest. It feels nice. 

As they walk out of the store, a couple of heads turn to look at them. They stop whenever they see Steve’s glare. 

It takes them a lot longer to get to Steve’s apartment than it had taken Steve to get to the store. Mostly because there was no running involved in getting back home. Steve tries to touch Bucky as much as possible at all times. He knows that there aren’t _that_ many alphas in the city that could take him in a fight, but there are a couple. He doesn’t want to give anybody a reason to fight, so he tries to make sure that Bucky smells as much like him as possible. 

Of course, even as Steve is unlocking the apartment door, he doesn’t let go of the omega. So maybe a _bit_ of the reason for the touching is selfish. 

Steve feels as if his hormones and instincts are completely controlling him. As they walk into the apartment, his brain is telling him to make sure that Bucky is comfortable. 

Instead, he pushes the omega very gently onto the couch. 

Steve can’t help but notice that Bucky’s breathing is still a little heavy, but then again, so is Steve’s. An intense wave of _want_ washes over Steve, though it’s more powerful than _want_. It’s more of a _need_

“This is supposed to be about taking care of you. I know that. I just. I need this. Is that okay?” The words come piling out of his mouth, sounding weird even to Steve. 

"Sure, Steve. Whatever you want.” Bucky smells so _good_

Steve’s heart is pounding. Bucky says something, Steve is sure of it, but he can’t bring himself to figure out what had been said. 

He’s too busy scenting Bucky, and then lapping at Bucky’s neck and shoulder. Chills shiver down Bucky’s spine as he moans. Steve’s never been so turned on in his life as he begins to gently nip at the spot where Bucky’s neck meets his shoulder. 

Usually, Steve would be worrying about the bruise he’s leaving, but his hands are too busy roaming across Bucky’s body. 

“Steve?” 

"Do you want me?” His hands are still running up and down the omega’s body. Bucky nods, but it’s not enough. “Bucky, do you want me.” It’s as if a very horny ghost has somehow possessed Steve’s body. 

"Yes, Steve. I want you.” And it appears that the omega really _does_ want Steve, physically if nothing else. 

He begins wiggling Bucky out of his pants, relishing the feeling of Bucky’s bare skin under his clothes. Bucky attempts, for just a few seconds, to repay the favor, but Steve only has to growl lightly before Bucky is back to relaxing on the couch, allowing Steve to continue. 

Steve takes his time undressing both of them. He makes sure that he touches Bucky in every inch of available skin. He starts to work his way up and down Bucky’s thighs with his tongue, and sucks dark bruises from his hip to his collarbone. Steve’s never felt so overwhelmed in his life. He hasn’t even touched the omega’s ass yet, and already he can smell the slick running down Bucky’s thighs. 

"Steve?” Bucky whines. 

"Do you want me?” Steve asks again. 

"Yes, Steve. Just you. I just want you.” Bucky sounds desperate in the best way. 

And then they’re just _touching_ each other, in any way possible. Steve’s entire body feels like the equivalent of a man dying from thirst, and Bucky is the water that will allow him to live. Steve doesn’t even notice that he’s growling. 

Steve makes sure they are facing each other as he starts pushing into Bucky. He’s barely touched the omega’s dick, but between all of the touchy foreplay and the hormones from heat, Bucky is already falling over the edge of orgasm. As he begins to thrust into the omega in earnest, he begins to slowly stroke Bucky’s dick back to hardness. He continues to thrust harder and faster, picking up the pace as Bucky edges closer and closer to a second orgasm. 

Steve’s knot begins to catch with each thrust; Bucky’s body putting the perfect amount of pressure all around Steve’s throbbing cock. 

Every feeling is so intense throughout Steve’s body that he hardly notices as he finishes, his brain already starting to come down from the prolonged adrenaline high. With Bucky trapped underneath him, it’s as if Steve can finally relax. 

They both fall asleep within minutes. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter, but the last couple of weeks have been CRAZY. I found out a got one of the scholarships I interviewed for! And I've been sick! And I have a first draft research paper due on Monday! And my parents have been gone, so I've been in charge of my siblings. It's been kind of crazy, but hopefully easier now?

Steve wakes up completely engulfed in the most beautiful, most luxuriant scent he’s ever experienced in his entire life. It’s soft and warm and comforting. Like everything good about life rolled up into one complex smell. 

_Shit_. It’s as if something in his brain clicks back into place. _Bucky_. He remembers Bucky’s phone call, running down streets, and punching the shit out of the other alpha, but everything else after that… 

He’s vaguely certain that they had sex on the couch, but he doesn’t actually _remember_ the sex happening. 

He extracts himself from Bucky’s perfect warmth immediately. Bucky had been _cornered_ in a bathroom. He had heard, if not seen, Steve _punch_ a guy, and then they had fucked on Steve’s couch. 

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_ Bucky had probably been traumatized, or at least terrified. There’s no way that he had wanted to fuck _on Steve’s couch_. An intense surge of self loathing bubbles up inside him. _What if I…?_

Steve runs to the bathroom as he’s suddenly overcome with nausea. He sits over the toilet, trying not to breathe in a way that makes him throw up. He’s not sure how long he sits there, trying to come to terms with the fact that he _has no idea what happened_. 

When he hears rustling coming from the other room, his entire body tenses up. What the fuck is he supposed to tell Bucky? _We might have fucked, but I also assaulted the guy who was messing with you, so it’s fine_?

“Steve?” _Shit, shit, shit_. 

“Bucky,” Steve can’t bring himself to look Bucky in the eyes, not certain that he wants to see the accusing look that might be there. “I need you to be completely honest with me. What did I do last night?” 

“What do you mean? You-” And then Bucky stops. “I remember being stuck in the bathroom. And you came and got me.”

Steve nods. “All of that is a bit blurry, but I remember bits and pieces. Did I… Do you remember what happened after?” 

“I think… I mean I think we might have had sex on your couch? You don’t remember?” Steve can’t read how Bucky feels about the fact that they could have had sex without either one of them remembering it. Honestly, he’s not sure how he feels about it himself. 

Steve shakes his head, a little ashamed. He’s the alpha; he’s supposed to be the one who can keep his head in these kinds of situations. “Not at all. Everything after punching that asshole -I think I _just_ punched him?- is a complete blur.” 

Bucky laughs. “Wow, it’s like you’re the one in heat this time.” 

Steve sits down next to Bucky on the sofa, not quite believing that the omega is _laughing_ at their situation. “Did I- I didn’t do anything that-” 

“Steve, anything we did last night was completely consensual. You’re fine. You probably just don’t remember because of some weird adrenalin thing.”

Steve can’t tell if he _actually_ believes what he’s saying, or if Bucky is just trying to make Steve feel better. “How are you doing though? Are you feeling-?”

“Steve,” Bucky sounds more than slightly exasperated. “I will be down to fuck literally any time you want for the next three to five days. You don’t have to tiptoe around it.” 

Steve can’t help but smiling at that, Bucky sounds back to his old self. “Yeah?” 

“Yes, asshole. But first,” Bucky stands up, pulling Steve with him. “something to eat.” 

“You know, that is one thing I can _definitely_ do. Some of us actually keep food in the cabinets-” 

“Fuck you, Rogers.” 

Steve stops in the middle of opening the fridge, putting on his best fake pout. “I thought you wanted food first?” 

Bucky makes motions as if he’s pulling his hair out. “You know if I didn’t like your dick so much, I would totally be leaving right now.” 

Steve can’t help but laugh as he begins to pull options out of the fridge. “Let’s see. For our tasty, pre-heat carboload, we have leftover pizza,” He sets the box out on the little table that he pretends looks like an island. “Leftover chow mein, or the makings of a grilled cheese sandwich.” 

Bucky seems to seriously consider his options. “How old’s the pizza?” Steve begins to count on his fingers. “Nope, if you have to think about it, it’s too old.” He gets up and peers at the different options. “I don’t think I have the patience to wait for grilled cheese, how old’s the chow mein?”

“That one’s from lunch, yesterday.” Bucky’s too close and smells too good. Steve can’t help but reaching out to the omega, drawing him closer.

Bucky sighs like it’s a real hardship. “That’ll do, I guess.” 

“Just _do_ , will it?” Steve can feel the goosebumps rising across the omega’s skin. “Do _what_ , exactly?” 

Bucky inhales sharply, eyes closing and his neck arching back reflexively. “Fuck, Steve.” 

“If that’s what you want, babe.” _God,_ Steve had missed this. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve knows that he’s in too deep. Spending Bucky’s heats at the omega’s house had been _fantastic_. Being completely enveloped in his scent had made Steve feel almost drunk on the pheromones. This, though, this is something on a completely different level. This is _Bucky_ smelling like Steve, using Steve’s pillows and covers and coffee cups. Their two scents mixing has got to be the most beautiful thing that Steve has ever witnessed. 

It’s doing weird things to Steve’s brain, but he’s enjoying it. Probably enjoying it _too_ much. He knows that he needs to try talking to Bucky about what’s going on, about what he’s feeling, but he’s scared. Sure, worst case scenario, Bucky wants to stop. But that’s a pretty fucking awful scenario. Steve’s pretty sure that he would rather keep whatever kind of relationship they have going right now going than risk losing the entire thing. 

They’re both pretty sure that Bucky’s heat is over, sure enough that Bucky had sent Steve away for a shower. Steve’s a little worried that Bucky’s going to be gone by the time he gets out, but he’s pretty sure that if he wanted to leave, Bucky would have just _said_ that he wanted to leave. 

He walks into the room with just a towel on, not able to help himself from enjoying the way Bucky’s eyes roam up and down his body. 

“Do you like french toast?” 

“I love french toast, but there’s something else that sounds slightly more appetizing at the moment.” 

“Awww, Buck.” Steve’s entire brain has just freaking _shut off_ , because there is no way that the omega just suggested what he _thinks_ was just suggested. “I just got out of the shower. You said you thought it was over.” 

“Can’t we just do it for fun?” 

And then Steve’s brain explodes. “I guess french toast can wait.” He tries to sound nonchalant about it. 

Steve drops his towel and climbs onto the bed. He pulls Bucky up and onto his lap. “I’ve wanted to do this for months.” He experiences an intense surge of anxiety and tries his best to simply ignore it. 

He kisses Bucky. 

Bucky seems a little surprised, but after a few moments he’s participating just as wholeheartedly as Steve is. He threads his fingers through Bucky’s hair, pulling lightly until Bucky moans into the alpha’s mouth. 

Bucky gently nips at Steve’s bottom lip, and Steve can’t stop himself from growling into the omega’s mouth. 

This time is different, and Steve knows it. Where everything they’ve done up to this point has been fast, and hormone-fueled, this is slower and more intense. Steve takes his time slowing working Bucky’s body open. He mouth doesn’t stray far from any given part of Bucky’s body for long, slowly kissing his lips and neck, his shoulders. 

Steve can’t stop talking “You’re fucking beautiful, Bucky, beautiful.” He can’t stop running his fingers through the omega’s hair either. “God, I love your hair, Buck.” 

As Steve puts the condom on his dick -easier now that his knot isn’t getting in the way any more- Bucky takes his turn with Steve, slowly kissing up the alpha’s back and neck, stopping at his ear and whispering, “You gonna fuck me any time soon, old man?” 

“I could be younger than you, for all you know, you little brat.” Steve knows that Bucky is baiting him on purpose, but it works. He pushes Bucky against the mattress. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You still want that french toast?” They’re cuddled together, and Steve loves the way that the omega feels pulled against his chest, but he does feel slightly guilty for not feeding the omega _quite_ as often as is probably healthy. 

“I don’t know… Do you have to get up.” 

Steve pretends to think about it. “I mean, one of us would definitely have to. Unless you can teleport things, which I don’t think you can.” 

“No,” Bucky agrees, “I haven’t quite figured that one out yet. I’m still working on the whole levitating thing.” 

“I suppose that I wouldn’t require you to get up with me though.”

“How very noble of you. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.” Steve begins to untangle himself, and Bucky can’t help but grumble a little bit. “It’s so much warmer with you here though.” 

Steve smiles down at Bucky, but continues to leave the bed. “I was very comfortable. More than comfortable. But I can’t just let you starve.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “A bit of a melodramatic alpha, aren’t we?” 

“Just keep the bed warm for me, will you?”

Bucky makes a big show of sighing loudly as Steve leaves the room. “I’ll do what I can.” 

Steve hurries into the kitchen, getting everything together as quickly as possible. He’s hoping for a quick bite to eat and then at least one more round before Bucky starts making excuses about getting things done. Hopefully after that, Steve can _at least_ talk him into a shower, hopefully together. Maybe they could meet somewhere tonight for dinner, and-

Well, the first one usually gets burnt anyway. 

He stacks what he hopes is enough for two onto a plate. There’s a weird, overly emotional part of him that wishes that he had a rose or something to put on the plate. That would be weird though, right? Probably. 

The change, because there definitely _has_ been a change, is obvious as soon as Steve walks back into the bedroom. Not just the fact that Bucky is fully clothed while he’s still in his boxers, but there’s something in Bucky’s expression… it’s… cold, as if he’s detached himself from the situation. 

“Are you going somewhere?” Steve tries his best not to sound overly demanding, just curious. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just need to leave. Something came up.” 

“Do you need a ride? I could-” 

“I’ve got to go.” Bucky cuts him off. 

“Wait!” Bucky turns around and Steve holds out a plate full of the french toast. “At least take something to eat, I-” 

“Thanks.” Bucky grabs a slice off of the top of the plate, and hurries out of Steve’s room and through the door. 

Steve doesn’t know what happened, but he can feel a part of himself that he hadn’t even realized was there _breaking_. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, Steve _knows_ that he needs to shower, objectively. Subjectively, that sounds like a fuckton of unnecessary work. He doesn’t have to be at work until tomorrow morning, anyway. He has several hours in which to convince himself to bathe. Right now, he’s going to keep moping about… nothing. 

He checks his phone, which he’s been avoiding for several hours now. 

**From Sam: Bro I think I found another omega who could use your help**

Steve rolls his eyes. Yeah, because that would be a _great_ idea. 

**To Sam: Yeah, I don’t think I can**

There are only two possible outcomes, if he would agree to help someone else out. Either they would somehow be _more_ perfect than Bucky (unlikely), or they would _not_ be as perfect, and the omega--whoever they are--deserves someone who isn’t thinking the whole time of an omega who they would rather be fucking. 

Not to mention the fact that he would probably die of exhaustion if he immediately went through another couple of days of heat-fueled sex. 

Knowing Sam, there’s probably no other omega, and that was probably some sort of test to see just how deep of a hole Steve has dug himself into concerning Bucky. Well, fuck Sam and his tests. Steve _knows_ that he shouldn’t have let himself get into this mess, but he’s here now, and he’s going to have to deal with the consequences. 

He should probably let Sam know what went down. That’s probably how a well-adjusted, healthy adult would handle this sort of situation, by telling their best friend. 

Steve throws his phone back onto the bed. 

He’ll just watch more Netflix. It’ll be fine. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, it’s been about a week now, since-” 

“I’m _fine_ , Sam.” 

“I’m just saying, it might not be a bad idea to-” 

“I’m not going to text him, Sam. I did _something_ to freak him out. Texting him could just make it worse.” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “I don’t see how, but that’s _not_ actually what I was going to suggest.” Steve raises an eyebrow, waiting for his friend’s suggestion. “Have you considered seeing someone?”

“Like a therapist?”

Sam laughs. “Well, yeah, if you think that would help, but I was talking about _seeing_ someone, as in, you know, dating.”

“Like a rebound? No thank you.” 

“I’m just saying-”

“I know you’re trying to help, Sam. But… please… just don’t.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) It's 2 in the morning, and it's been WAY too long since I've posted anything. So... no proofreading. Feel free to pick out my errors (there will be many, I'm sure of it) in the comments. 
> 
> 2)Naughty author is bad about updating regularly? I'm not sure if I should even promise anything quickly at this point because I don't want to be too hopeful. (Only 2 more months till my graduation though, so hopefully updates will be quicker again this summer!
> 
> 3) Personal rant, feel free to ignore. I THOUGHT I WAS WRITING SOME ALMOST DYSTOPIAN KIND OF THING WHERE THE 'WEAKER' SEX GETS TOTALLY TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF. BUT MY BEST FRIENDS BOYFRIEND (soon to be ex boyfriend) PRESSURED HER INTO HAVING SEX. She told him no once, and then he made her feel guilty for the 'mixed signals' he was giving her and acted really mad, and so the next time he asked she was afraid to say no again and it was her first time and I'm SOOO beyond angry, I'm fucking LIVID and I'm so sorry but I need to tell someone and you guys are my go-to for problems like this so there you go.

Steve has started typing out the text about a half a million times, minimum. 

**Hey! I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I was wondering if maybe…**

**How’s it going? I thought maybe**

**Are you seeing anyone at the**

**I think that I might be more than a little bit in lo**

**What the fuck happened that**

**I’m definitely in**

He never sends any of them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steven,” Steve is very much regretting the emergency key he let Sam--and through Sam, apparently Riley--have to his apartment. “Steven, I know that you’re here.”

He mutters something from underneath the nest of covers he’s arranged on the couch, not quite willing to come out of his cocoon at the moment. It may be a Tuesday, but Tuesday-Wednesday is Steve’s weekend this week. He’s sure as hell going to enjoy as much of it as possible. 

_Enjoy_ being a relative term, anyway. 

“Steven, would you like to know _why_ I knew you were here?” He doesn’t reply. “I could _smell_ you. Through the door, I could smell you.” Riley pulls the top layer bedding off of Steve’s body, and the alpha immediately has to fight his urge to hiss at the lights. “Not the sexy kind of smell, mind you. The disgusting kind.” 

“I showered… not that long ago.” 

“You see, the fact that you can’t give me the actual day off of the top of your head, that tells me that it’s been too long. So. You’re going to get in the shower, and you’re going to eat real food, and I’m going to pick up the half empty pizza boxes lying around before you get fucking roaches. Do you understand?” 

Steve doesn’t have very much of a choice beyond nodding and listening to the instructions. 

By the time Steve is out of the shower and into a pair of jeans, Riley has his apartment looking almost back to normal. There’s a pile of dirty clothes that he’s definitely going to have to go about washing some point in the very near future, but other than that the apartment actually looks livable again. 

And, if he’s going to be completely honest with himself, the shower did make him feel a little bit better. 

“Now,” Riley has an assortment of different food containers spread out around him. “I’m going to make you a _salad_. There is going to be _vegetables_ involved. Is that going to be okay?” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not a child, Ril-”

“Stevie, I’m going to forget the fact that you were moping like a two year old who had their favorite toy taken away, and you’re going to eat the vegetables, okay?”

“How does Sam ever manage to win any arguments with you?”

Riley laughs, “Aww, Sweetie. It’s cute that you think he ever _has_.” He finishes mixing all of the different leafy things together and hands Steve a bowl. The salad is _huge_ , with chicken and strawberries and little bits of orange and romaine lettuce, purple cabbage, and what appears to be carrots. 

This may be more vegetables than he’s eaten in the last week or two, though he’s not about to admit that to Riley. 

Riley gives him a few moments of peace as he begins eating the salad before starting the questions. Of course, Steve _knows_ that the questions are coming, but that doesn’t mean that he’s looking forward to them by any stretch of the imagination. 

“So, would you like to explain to me what exactly is going on here?” 

Steve raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “You mean Sam hasn’t explained.” 

Riley shrugs. “Sam said it was personal, but I could tell that something was wrong. Sam’s been a little bit more… well, _therapist-y_ the last week or so, so I figured that he was trying to figure out how to make you feel bette. Because he’s beautiful and selfless and a little bit naive, and thinks that he can solve everyone’s problems for them.” 

That _does_ sound like Sam. 

Steve tries to explain slowly, trying to make sure that Riley understands that this isn’t just pheromones or physical attraction, but something deeper than that, something that sinks into Steve’s _soul_ every time he’s in the same room as Bucky, though he doesn’t notice even notice the difference until Bucky is back out of the room because he’s so drunk on the omega’s presence. How it _did_ start off purely physical, because Bucky _is_ attractive, and he smells like heaven, but he’s also snarky and hilarious and charming and such a _shithead_ sometimes that all Steve wants to do is curl up with him on a warm bed and never let anyone make him frown ever again. 

Riley is laughing at him, and part of him wants to growl and snap at the other man, but he restrains himself to just a simple. “What’s so funny?”

“Stevie, it’s just cute, I guess.” 

“Well, I’m glad that my mental turmoil is funny to you.” 

“No, Stevie, don’t be like that. It’s just that… I’ve known you for a while, and I’ve never seen you in love before. It’s… it’s nice, I guess. And adorable. And Bucky seems like a great guy, so what’s the problem.” 

Steve explains what happened that morning, roughly two weeks ago now. Riley’s whole face goes slack. 

“Steven? Did Sam give you some advice on how to deal with this?”

“Uh… yeah? He told me to try rebounding, you know? Just talking to people at bars and stuff like that, why?” 

“Ugh,” Riley rests his head in his hands. “I was talking about the omega-servicing thing, and was asking for some advice on how alphas should deal with getting _maybe a little_ too attached to the omegas they were helping. And _I_ told him that dating around a little might help. Because I assumed that it was _a lot_ simpler than the situation that you just described to me. Please disregard all further advice that comes from Sam Wilson, he’s obviously an idiot.”

“Can I have that in writing?” 

Riley winks at Steve as he takes a bite of his own salad. “ _There’s_ my Stevie back. We’re gonna figure this out together, okay babe?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Steve is on a beach. He can hear the waves rolling across the sand and children giggling. A particularly loud squeal comes from his left, and he heads down the beach, knowing he needs to find whoever made the noise._

_He turns a corner and realizes that he’s at the top of a sand dune. He -carefully- slides down. He can see them, the people making the noises, now. It’s a group of them, he can’t tell how many people, but he can hear the laughter and shrieks._

_He’s almost close enough to make out their faces when one of them -a little boy, Steve thinks- breaks off from the group and comes barrelling towards him. He can’t be more than three years old, he hardly comes up to Steve’s knee. Dark, wavy hair and bright blue eyes, he runs straight up to Steve, making grabby hands until Steve picks him up._

_He’s usually awkward with children, he really hasn’t been around them much, but this feels natural. The little boy babbles on Steve’s hip as they approach the rest of the group._

_There seems to be an entire litter of children playing on the beach, none of them sitting still long enough for Steve to properly count them. It takes several minutes for Steve to find an adult, sitting on a beach towel, playing with another child, this one too little to walk around the beach on their own._

_Steve appreciates the smell coming off the omega before anything else. He smells happy and cared for, like he would rather play with the baby in front of him than anything else in the world. Steve considers making a pass, when he sees the bond mark on the omega’s shoulder. He’s saddened, just a little, that someone else is making the omega this happy._

_“C’mon, Rogers.” Steve recognizes the voice. “You can’t expect me to do all the heavy lifting around here, can you?”_

_**Bucky** , Steve realizes. It’s Bucky. _

_“Daddy!” The little boy practically jumps from Steve’s hip into Bucky’s outstretched arms._

_Bucky just laughs as he swings the toddler around playfully._

_“Aww, c’mon Steve, don’t look so upset. Statistically, at least one of them has got to like me more.”_

_Steve just smiles as Bucky pulls him in for a kiss._

_He hears a chorus of “ewwww”s in the background, and it may be the sweetest thing that he has ever heard._

Steve pretends that this is a completely normal dream to have about a kind-of lover. Completely, 100% normal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve still hasn’t decided how he’s going to deal with this whole… situation. He _knows_ that he’s more than a little in love with Bucky; he’s worked past admitting that to himself (He’s dreamed about having _children_ with the guy, it’s not a hard thing to admit to himself), but he’s not sure if there are any even _slightly_ appropriate ways to deal with the feelings. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Bucky, or come off as one of those alphas who feel possessive over any omega they sleep with. 

But he _does_ feel a little possessive over Bucky, but he doesn’t want that to become common knowledge.

It’s complicated. 

It’s been around a month since they parted ways, and Steve finally gets up the nerve to text him, for real this time. 

**To Bucky (Best Ass in N.Y.C): How’s it going Buck?**

Texting has spoiled humanity when it comes to communication. Steve is sure that when people had to write letters to communicate, they didn’t get antsy for a reply as soon as they dropped the letter off at the post office. Though to be completely honest, Steve is pretty sure that he would be squirming from a reply from Bucky even _if_ he knew that a letter would be several days or weeks away. 

It’s several hours later, and there’s still no reply. He feels like if he paces any more he’ll literally wear a hole in the floor. His phone finally buzzes, but he ignores the text as soon as he sees that it’s from Sam. He’s mad at his friend simply for not being Bucky, which is irrational of course, but makes him feel a little bit better. 

He starts cleaning the apartment. He usually keeps it _tidy_ enough, but never actually does any of the deep cleaning things that his mother would frown at him for ignoring. For the first time in… a long time, he cleans his bathroom, dusts (does dusting spray go bad?) and vacuums. 

It’s when he pushes back the couch when he finds it, the shirt Bucky had been wearing when Steve had rescued him from the bathroom. He instinctively puts the shirt up to his nose, trying to scent out any lingering traces of Bucky left on the fabric. It might just be his mind playing tricks on him, giving him the very thing he desires most, but he thinks he can, just barely-there hints of the beautiful aroma that Bucky gives off during his heats. 

He throws his leather jacket on, the April air is still a little chilly, and is out the door before he even fully understands what’s going on, subconsciously following the route that he’s used only twice before. 

He’s only five minutes away before he stops and realizes what he’s doing. This could possibly be the creepiest thing that he’s ever done. Bucky has yet to contact him since the last time they saw each other, let alone text him back in the last couple of hours, there’s no way that it’s an even _slightly_ okay thing for him to do, run to the omegas house just to give him a shirt that he had accidentally left without. 

_Fuck it,_ Steve’s already almost there. Worst case scenario, he can claim that the text was actually going to be him checking to see if Bucky was home so that he could drop off the shirt, but he had decided to head in the general direction anyway, so he decided to just stop by. 

Yeah, that definitely makes sense. 

It doesn’t even sound _that_ crazy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He feels a nervous sense of dread in his stomach as he knocks on the door, his stupid brain conjuring up images of a door slammed in his face, or maybe a new boyfriend telling to leave Bucky the fuck alone, or _Bucky_ screaming the words himself, calling the police on a stalker alpha who has decided to visit his home without any invitation whatsoever. 

What _actually_ happens is of course, much less dramatic. “Steve?” Bucky leaves the door latched as he peeps out from behind it. Steve is momentarily overwhelmed by the sight of the omega alone, let alone his _delicious_ scent. How the hell does he manage to smell better out of heat than he does even _in_ heat? 

Steve, to no one’s surprise, let alone his own, is flushing beet red. His hand unconsciously rubs across the back of his neck. “I was cleaning… and… I know this might not be that big of a deal, and that you might be busy, but I was headed this way anyway, so I figured I might as well swing by and see if you were-” 

“Steve? Would you like to come inside?” The door shuts before Steve can answer, and he hears the chain slowly slide across the metal latch. Bucky looks shy as he opens the door, as if he’s not sure how Steve is going to react. “Well… would you?” 

Steve’s mouth has gone completely try. Bucky has always been attractive to Steve, has always smelled good, even after several intense, sweaty rounds of heat-fueled sex, but this is different, this is beyond _enticing and beautiful and perfect_. This was just _Bucky_ at the most divinely beautiful that Steve has ever seen him. He can see Bucky’s own pupils dilate with lust; he knows that his are most likely doing the same as he takes another step towards the omega. He vaguely hears the sound of the door clicking shut behind him but can hardly concentrate on anything that isn’t the sight of the omega, _his omega_ , in front of him. 

“Bucky?” His voice is soft but deeper than usual, even in his barely-present frame of mind he notices. “Buck, is this… is this okay? Do I… need…” He has trouble forming the words; they leave a sick taste in his mouth. “Do I need to go?”

Bucky whines at the very idea, and the doubt running through the back of Steve’s mind is laid to rest. Bucky wants this, just as much as Steve does. Maybe it’s not the best idea for either of them, God knows that Steve is attached enough as it is, but as long as they both _want_ , both _need_ this, it can’t be a _bad_ idea, even if it _is_ a stupid one. The concept was complicated, but somehow made sense in Steve’s hormone-addled brain. 

“Bed?” Bucky suggests, and it may be the most seductive word that Steve has ever had the pleasure of hearing. He doesn’t even have to nod before Bucky is running towards the bedroom. As soon as he sees Bucky turning around the corner into his bedroom, a primitive part of his brain that Steve had been unaware of before that point suddenly awoke. 

_Chase. Mate. Breed._ are the only coherent thoughts running through his head as he runs after Bucky into his bedroom. 

He practically tackles Bucky down onto the bed, enjoying the playful yelp the omega makes at the unexpected force. “Mine.” He declares, it sounds almost a challenge, as if he’s waiting for Bucky to contradict him.

Bucky doesn’t. “Yours.” He agrees, breathless and panting as he bares his neck submissively. Bucky is the only person Steve knows who can effortlessly achieve a demanding submissiveness, the come-hither wink he gives Steve through his fluttering lashes almost are enough to stop Steve’s heart then and there. 

He scents Bucky’s neck, enjoying the panting breaths that the omega is making before latching his teeth onto the sensitive skin there, making sure to leave a sizeable mark. _His._

“Steve?” Bucky whines. Steve can feel the omega’s length hardening even through several layers of clothes. “Fuck me.”

It’s not a request, despite the whining edge to his voice. Steve could no more deny the omega than he could insult his mother. _Wow, Steve. Let’s not think about your mother while Bucky is squirming mere inches from your dick?_

It only takes mere moments before they’re both fully undressed, and despite not being in heat, Bucky is already practically leaking underneath him. Steve, wanting to make sure that this is as enjoyable as possible for the omega, begins inserting his fingers slowly into Bucky’s warm, wet heat. 

Bucky nearly bites his head off. “I’m fucking ready.” 

Steve’s not quite ready to admit to the chill the crawls down his spine. 

He wants to take Bucky apart slowly, see just how long he can drag it out, he wants both of them squirming and begging and not able to think of anything past coming as quickly as possible, but now is not the time. He can smell it on himself as well as the omega; it’s more than a _want_ , it’s deeper are more pressing, and Bucky needs to be fucked _right now_. 

“Now, Steve!” Steve values his manhood enough to refrain from laughing… loudly enough for Bucky to hear him anyway. 

Bucky, obviously annoyed with the speed at which Steve is taking this, flips himself over, spreading his knees and raising his ass up, _presenting_ himself to Steve. Any remaining willpower that the alpha had held onto is _gone_.

Steve slides into Bucky with one smooth motion, revelling in the tight, wet heat of Bucky as well as the loud moaning sound that Bucky seems to be involuntarily making. Steve does his best at keeping up a steady pace, enjoying the moans and groans and whines that come out of the omega with every thrust of Steve’s body. He knows that he’s not going to last long, but he can tell Bucky is mere thrusts from the edge himself, and so he doesn’t feel _too_ badly about it. Besides, they’ll be plenty of time to take it slow later. Right now, he’s going to enjoy this kind of sex, the too-fast, not-fast-enough rutting that makes Steve’s head swim with endorphins like never before. 

“Steve,” Bucky practically screams. “Steve, fill me up. Make me come. C’mon, my alpha.” He keeps up a string of loose profanities and mild encouragements for what could be hours or minutes of seconds, Steve’s not exactly _time_ oriented at the moment. “Fuck,” He finally manages. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” The pitches of his yells progressively get louder until one long final, “Fuck.” That turns into hardly more than a long whine as he comes in long streaks all over his sheets. 

The pulsing that follows Bucky’s own orgasm is what finally gets Steve past the edge of no return, and he’s coming straight into Bucky’s body only a couple of thrusts after Bucky finishing. 

Steve loses track of time as he catches his breath, not even able to move himself from where he’s trapping Bucky against the bed, let alone breath properly. No knot this time, Bucky’s much too far away from heat for that little biological trick to happen, so Steve slides out just as smoothly as he entered, though Bucky’s whine as he pulls out does more than stroke Steve’s ego. 

It might be hours later before Steve is fully recovered, too busy drinking in Bucky’s beautiful scent to think any deeper thoughts than _mine_. 

It’s when Bucky gets up to go to the bathroom, and the cloud of pheromones has a little time to thin out, when Steve has his first rational thought in what is probably hours. 

_He didn’t wear a condom._ The thought is the most instant downer that Steve has ever experienced. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._ His mom would box him upside the head if she was physically there to do it. He can hear her now, her voice as clear as it was the day she died. _Steven Grant Rogers, you’re big enough now to do as you please, but don’t you ever get so high and mighty that you don’t think I won’t tan your hide if you ever do anything idiotic with that knot of yours._

Steve’s scent must have changed, because as Bucky sneaks back into the room, he’s moving cautiously, like he’s afraid of how Steve is going to react. 

“Buck,” Steve whispers. “I’m sorry.” 

The omega’s eyes go steely and cold instantly. “For what?” 

“We didn’t use a condom. I know you’re not in heat, so the chances aren’t _nearly_ as high, but that doesn’t mean that--” 

Bucky is laughing. 

“Steve? I thought--” The omega is almost hiccuping with laughter. “I assumed that you--” Steve is just confused, and almost hurt at whatever the joke it that he’s not getting. Eventually, Bucky calms himself down long enough to complete a sentence without starting on another giggling fit. “Steve, do I smell different to you?”

“Do you….?” Steve’s forehead wrinkles in confusion and then--

_Oh shit._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this chapter was really hard to write? It's like something was stuck in my head. Anyway, I uploaded it just in time to stop it being a MONTH between uploads. I apologize.

“You’re pregnant?” Steve’s head is spinning. His heart is pounding; his hands feel clammy; he’s not quite sure if he’s remembering to breathe or not. It’s not until Bucky is tensed underneath him that he realizes that he’s grabbed ahold of the omega. 

And then his entire perspective shifts once again. Bucky didn’t ask for this, to have Steve’s child-- _Steve’s child_ \--inside of him. Steve had been irresponsible; Bucky might not want him in the child’s life, might not want to keep the child-- _shit, their child_ , at all. He lets go of the omega and tries to put some distance between them, though every inch feels like a mile. “Have you… Are you…” Steve can almost feel the cotton on his tongue that’s taking the words from him. 

Though the omega is only half dressed, Steve has never seen him so stiff. “I’m keeping the baby.” His tone is hard, as if he’s worried Steve’s going to fight him on it. 

Steve’s never heard a more beautiful sentence in his life. All of the sudden the alpha feels nervous. He’s never felt so powerless. Bucky could ask for anything right now, and Steve would do everything in his power to give it to him, if it meant that Steve could just stay in the baby’s-- _their baby’s!_ \--life. He trusts Bucky, maybe even loves Bucky, but he’s not quite comfortable with this idea, the powerlessness. 

This may be the most alpha thing that Steve has ever thought in his life. 

A crushing weight hits Steve like a ton of bricks. His irresponsibility had caused this, and it is going to change Bucky’s life irreversibly. He hadn’t asked for anything more than someone to help him through his heats. He might have planned on a pregnancy at some point, but he certainly hadn’t planned on not being bonded yet, or having a kid with someone like Steve, someone who barely made enough money to get by, someone who made art to sell in kitschy cafes. 

“Buck, I’m sorry-”

“Stop. I don’t care how you’re feeling, don’t fucking apologize.” Bucky looks down at his stomach, something fond in his gaze. “They’re not going to think they weren’t wanted. Not ever.” 

Bucky’s making it so easy for Steve to fall in love with him. “Can I…” His voice is small as he reaches timidly towards Bucky’s stomach. 

The omega nods. 

Bucky’s stomach is still flat. Steve doesn’t know anything about pregnancies, but he’s pretty certain that this is normal. It takes at least a couple of months before the pregnant individual gets all round and cute and grouchy, he’s pretty sure anyway. He’s looking forward to it already. Pregnant Bucky is something he’s imagined before, he’s willing to admit that to himself, but it had always been a simple fantasy, something in the back of his mind while helping with his heats. Now it’s a much more concrete image. If he plays his cards right, he _will_ get to experience Bucky waddling around, Bucky craving strange foods, Bucky holding _their_ baby. 

Steve scents Bucky’s stomach like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t think anything of it until Bucky is laughing above him. “You’re such an alpha, Jesus Christ.” 

Steve looks up and despite the laughter, there is still something guarded in Bucky’s expression. “It’s just…” Steve feels the need to defend himself. “I’ve never really had a family before, not besides Mom.” 

Steve worries for a second that he had said the wrong thing, taken it too far out of Bucky’s comfort zone. But then the omega’s expression softens. He begins to run his fingers through Steve’s hair as the alpha continues to bury himself in Bucky’s scent. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How far along are you, anyway? Have you been to the doctor yet, are you going again soon, and can I come? Do you want to find out the sex? Not that it actually matters in the slightest. I’m pretty sure one of Riley’s friends signed up for this pregnancy yoga class and they loved it, do you want to do that?” Steve knows that he’s rambling, he’s always rambled when he’s gotten nervous. Bucky can’t really judge him, because Bucky mumbles when he’s annoyed. Steve can tell, because he’s mumbled unintelligible curse words every time Steve has started rambling. 

“I’m a little more than a month along, I’ve been to the doctor once and won’t have to go for a couple weeks, and I’m not actually sure if you can come. I go to the omega clinic, and I’ve never actually checked to see if alphas are allowed. We can talk about the gender thing, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to a yoga class with a bunch of pregnant middle-class white women, no thank you.” 

Steve has forced Bucky out of bed and into the kitchen. “You need to start stocking your cabinets with _actual_ food, Buck.” He pulls microwavable mac ‘n cheese out of the cabinet. “It can’t be healthy.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes as he takes cup away from Steve and begins preparing the ‘meal.’ “I’ll have you know that the baby _loves_ this. I can tell.” 

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. They both know that anything that you add water to and stick in the microwave for three and a half minutes isn’t real food, but if it makes Bucky happy, Steve’s not going to complain about him eating it. 

Bucky makes moaning noises as he takes bites of the too-yellow noodles. Part of Steve wants to tell Bucky that he’ll give something _worth_ moaning about, but he holds himself back. He’s not quite sure where they stand on _that_ kind of thing at the moment, and he doesn’t want to come on too strong. 

It’s dark by the time Bucky finishes his radioactive noodles, and Steve doesn’t want to leave. It should be easy, asking the man _carrying their child_ if he can spend the night, but Steve knows that he’d never be able to stutter out the words. 

Bucky is more somber as he cleans up after himself. Steve can see pensive look on the omega’s face. He can tell that Bucky wants to say something, but he’s terrified of what it might be. 

“Steve, I know you didn’t ask for this--” Bucky holds his hands up as Steve goes to interrupt. “I know I wasn’t planning on it either, so let me finish.” The crease between his eyebrows makes Steve wants to kiss the omega, but he refrains. “I know that you didn’t ask for this, but we can do this right? People can raise a kid and be… friends, right?” 

Bucky looks worried and sad. Steve pulls him into a hug, comforting the omega even as he feels his own heart fracturing into pieces. _Friends_. 

“Of course we can, Buck. You’re gonna be such a good dad, and I’ll… I’ll do my best, okay? I don’t have a whole lot of practice with little kids, but I’ll try to catch on quick. We’ll figure everything out, together, okay?” 

Bucky rests his head on Steve’s chest, and Steve consciously restrains himself from pulling the omega in for a kiss. _Friends._ “Thank you, Steve.” 

“Hey, Buck, no problem. We did this together, that’s how we’ll figure it out.” 

_Friends_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck is wrong?” Sam is panting, clutching his chest he finishes. 

“What? Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Yeah, well my pulse says fucking otherwise. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Steve, who had hardly broken a sweat during their run, feels his heart pounding at the thought. He knows he should tell Sam, he’ll _have_ to tell Sam soon, but… _Friends_

“I went to Bucky’s last night.” 

“Jesus, Steve.” The exasperated look on Sam’s face is so familiar at this point that Steve almost thinks of it as Sam’s _regular_ expression. “What made you think that was a good idea? You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t call the cops-” 

“ _Riley_ made me think it was a good idea so calm down. Besides, I found his shirt at my house, I thought I would politely return it.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Anyway, he’s pregnant.”

Sam looks like he’s going to scream. His eyes are wide, mouth _literally_ hanging open. Steve feels like he can watch the Sam process the words that had come out of Steve’s mouth. 

It doesn’t surprise Steve when the final emotion seems to be anger. “What the fuck, Steve? Weren’t you guys careful?” 

Steve shrugs. “I thought we were. But I guess we weren’t once, or the condom broke. Hell, maybe I just have super sperm.” 

“I’m glad you think this is funny.” 

“I’ve had a while to get used to the idea. Bucky wants to keep the baby.” Even with how shitty Steve’s still feeling when it comes to thoughts of Bucky, he can’t help but smiling as he says that. Bucky wants to keep _his_ baby. _Their_ baby. 

“You’re sure it’s yours right?” Steve growls reflexively at the idea. Sam rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, you’d be a much better dad than a lot of random one night stands. I couldn’t really blame an omega for…” 

“The baby’s _mine_ , Sam.” 

Sam raises his hand in submission. “I just wanted to make sure that you had thought about this beyond whatever your omega told you. I haven’t even met the guy, he could be a psycho for all I know.” 

“He’s not a psycho. And he’s not my omega.” 

Sam’s forehead creases. “But you said--” 

“Bucky wants to be _friends_.” 

“Oh.” Sam sighs. “I guess that explains why you’re trying to kill yourself with running then.” Steve’s more than a little uncomfortable with how transparent he is. “Did you try _talking_ to Bucky about how you’re feeling about… that?” 

Steve shakes his head. “There’s no way I’m doing that. I got us into this mess. He was in heat; it was my responsibility to take care of him. He might not want _any_ relationship, let alone one with me. And if I bring it up, he’ll feel trapped. We all know that if I brought it to court, they’d let me have the baby. I’m not doing that to him. If he wants _me_ , he can have me. But I’m not trapping him like that.” 

Sam sighs again. “You have a very skewed view of how people few the prospect of dating you, you know that?” 

“We’ve been sleeping together for a while now, I think if he wanted to date me, he would have mentioned it by now.”

“Oh yeah, because _you_ said something when you first started to get feelings, I forgot.”

Steve flips Sam off, and then starts a cool down lap, leaving the other man in his dust. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steven Grant Rogers!” 

Steve is getting ready for work when Riley barges through the door, almost giving Steve a heart attack in the process. “What?” He finishes slipping into his black shirt (black shirt, black pants, black shoes, black belt, Steve’s never felt so much like bouncer in his life.) 

“Steven, I am appalled. Simply appalled.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I _can’t_ believe that you told Sam, _Sam_ of all people, before you told me.” 

Steve rubs the back of his neck as he realizes what exactly Riley is talking about. “Well, I guess I viewed telling Sam _as_ telling you, in a roundabout sort of way.” 

Riley raises an eyebrow. “A very nice save, but that doesn’t get you out of the doghouse quite yet.” 

“And what _will_ get me out of the doghouse?” 

“You’ll have to bring this fertile omega of yours to dinner. Sam and I must assure that he’s up to bar. Only the best for our Steven.” 

“I already told Sam, he’s not my--”

“Not _yet_ , Steven. Not _yet_. Soon everything will be right, and if this Bucky has any sense at all, you’ll be each other’s in no time at all. Just let me take care of it.” 

“Riley, I’m not even sure it-” 

“Just let me take care of it, Steven.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Riley almost looks as if he’s going to reprimand Steve for the sass, but he seems to change his mind last minute. “That’s better.” He huffs. “I’ll text you the details. With any luck we’ll arrange a time that works for everyone.”   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 **To Bucky: I have some bad news**

**From Bucky: ?!?!?!**

**To Bucky: My friends wanna meet you**

**From Bucky: Oh, the horror!**

**To Bucky: I’m serious. Riley is planning a dinner. He’s an awful cook. We’re all going to have to pretend to enjoy the food.**

**From Bucky: Maybe I’ll just be busy that night**

**To Bucky: No way youre getting off that easy. The dinner is in your honor. Ive been instructed to ask 4 a list of your available dates**

**From Bucky: Wow just how formal is this going to be**

**To Bucky: Not that formal. Just four of us. Riley is just a little bit of a drama queen. He was raised with proper southern sensibilities**

**From Bucky: Not TOO proper right? He gonna be ok with me?**

**To Bucky: Oh shit, yeah not THAT kind of proper. He just likes dinner parties and flowers and shit**

**From Bucky: Okay cool**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 **From Bucky: I have some bad news**

**To Bucky: Are you okay????**

**From Bucky: Oh yeah, I’m fine. But my friends want to meet you**

**To Bucky: That wasn’t very nice.**

**From Bucky: Karma.**

**To Bucky: Meeting your friends though?**

**From Bucky: Well… they actually want us to babysit. Clint says he trusts Kate’s opinion more than his own.**

**To Bucky: Oh… yeah… I can do that. Definitely.**

**From Bucky: Stop sweating so much. We’re going to need the practice :)**

**To Bucky: :) :) :)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little shorter, but the next ones gonna be THE DINNER PARTY and even more importantly BABYSITTING. Kate is going to have some THINGS to SAY to our favorite dumbasses. I can tell already.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN MORE THAN A MONTH AND I APOLOGIZE SO MUCH. This is the chapter I've had the most trouble writing so far, and I have NO idea why. It will /definitely/ be more than a week before the next chapter is posted, as I'm going on vacation starting tomorrow morning. Dinner w/ Riley had to be moved to next chapter for writer's block reasons. I'm sorry for the wait. (PS typos galore will follow, so let me know if you see anything :) )

Steve is not freaking out. He’s _not_. Steve is an adult, and he can accomplish adult things. He’s going to be a _father_.

He is not scared of a four year old. Even if she _is_ terrifying. Of course, he hasn’t _actually_ met her yet, but he has a feeling. Bucky seems to love the little girl unconditionally, and as endearing as that is, in Steve’s experience, Bucky enjoys difficult, scary people. Besides, this is the child of Bucky’s best friends. He _needs_ to make a good first impression on these people. 

Well, with Natasha it’s not exactly a first impression, but it’s close enough to a first impression. He can feel sweat running down his neck. He wishes that he had asked Bucky to meet before making his way to Clint and Natasha’s house. 

He is buzzed into the building and makes his way to their apartment. He’s never been so nervous in his life. 

When he knocks on the door, it’s opened almost immediately by an omega. “Hi,” The man _almost_ seems to be smiling, but not quite. “You must be Steve?” 

Steve’s throat feels dry as he attempts to say something that doesn’t make him look like a complete idiot. “Yeah--Yes, I’m Steve. Is Bucky--” 

“He’s not here yet. I guess you can come in though.” 

Steve sees two children serenely sitting watching a colorful looking children’s show. Bucky had said that they were four and not-quite-one years old. He hardly gets time to get a closer look at the kids before he’s following Clint-- _This must be Clint, right?_ \--out of the room and into what appears to be a kitchen. 

He recognizes the woman leaning against the counter, though he had never seen her like this. Natasha is dressed to the nine’s, a tight black dress that is accentuating all of her curves perfectly. Her heels could quite literally kill a man. She seems to be one of the female alphas that can exude femininity in the most terrifying way, the kind he would have been following around like a kicked puppy back in high school. 

“Hello, Steve.” He’s seriously considering making a run for it. The only thing stopping him from bolting back out the door is the fact that he wants something _real_ with Bucky, and without making an effort with Bucky’s friends, Steve knows that’s not going to happen. 

Clint bursts out laughing; Natasha glaring at him immediately. “I’m sorry, babe,” Clint seems genuinely apologetic. “I just can’t keep this up. I mean just look at his eyes, it’s like teasing a baby rabbit. He can’t do anything to defend himself.” 

“I married a child.” Natasha sighs and then walks towards their _actual_ children, leaving Clint and Steve alone in their kitchen. 

“So…” Steve is still trying to collect his wits about him. “You guys… we’re okay?” 

Clint folds his arm, a less terrifying but just as serious expression on his face. “We’re… almost okay. You could say that we--Natasha and I--are… withholding judgement until further notice. We both agree that the pair of you are idiotic, especially you, but your poor decision making skills on one _particular_ don’t have to necessarily be a bad thing.

“No pressure or anything.” Clint smiles at Steve, calculating and cold, as there’s a knock on the door. He can hear Bucky come in, exclaiming over the children, over how big they’ve gotten since the last time he’s seen them. Steve feels frozen. Clint may not be half so intimidating as Natasha is, but he has no doubt in his mind that the omega could and _would_ find a way to make Steve’s death look like an accident, if he ever so much as harmed a hair on Bucky Barnes’ head. 

He follows Clint back towards the children, and he’s taken back by the sight of Bucky playing energetically with the baby. Seeing Bucky, usually sarcastic and somewhat distant, giggling with the one year old on the couch instantly melts away any reservations he had previously held about his feelings for the omega. _This is it. This is my family._ It was that easy. 

Clint coughs and Steve snaps out of his reverie. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, can feel his cheeks heating up, as he realizes that the married couple had been watching him watch their friend. He’s distracted by his embarrassment by a tap on his thigh. It’s the four year old, Kate. 

“Yes, ma’am?” He crouches down so that they are on the same level. 

“You’re helping Uncle Bucky watch us?” She doesn’t seem to have formulated an opinion as to whether that’s a good or bad thing yet. 

“If you’re okay with it, and if you’re mommy and daddy are okay with it, then yes.” 

She takes a second, considering. Steve’s experience with children is pretty limited, but he’s never seen such an intensely serious child in his life. 

“I guess you can stay.” She shrugs, preceding to run off and presumably find her toys. 

As Steve stands up again, Natasha looks fiercely proud, while Clint seems to be on the verge of laughter once again. 

“You guys have fun now.” Natasha says with a smirk, pulling her husband through the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve is currently having _tea_ with a questionable mixture of stuffed animals and pirates, though he couldn’t tell you quite how he was roped into it. Bucky has been messing with Teddy pretty much the whole time, leaving Steve to babysit Kate. Or possibly leaving Kate to babysit Steve. 

“Mr. Ward and Ms. May both need their cups filled.” Kate orders. 

“Of course,” Steve smiles, surprised at how genuinely _entertained_ he feels, playing along with Kate. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice myself.” 

Kate clucks her tongue, sounding just like Steve assumes Clint sounds like when he’s attempting to parent more sternly. “I forgive you. This time.” And _that_ was all Natasha. 

Steve pours the imaginary tea under Kate’s watchful eye. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he was in high school. 

“Mommy says that Uncle Bucky is growing a baby.” 

_Oh shit._ This is not the conversation he wanted to have with a four year old anytime in the future. Or ever. “Yeah, he is.” He keeps his tone light, hoping that she’ll drop it. 

He should have known better. This is _Natasha’s_ kid. “Daddy says that Bucky’s baby is going to have two daddies. No mommies. Just daddies.” 

“Yeah,” Steve nods, hoping that she doesn’t want to go into the mechanics of it any time soon. “The baby is going to have two daddies.” 

“Are you the other daddy?” And suddenly, Steve kind of wishes that Kate had asked the dreaded _Where do babies come from?_ “Are you married to Uncle Bucky? Daddy says that most of the time when people have a baby they’re married. But not all the time.” 

“No, I’m not married to Uncle Bucky.” 

“Oh.” She takes another second to think about it. “Do you want to marry Uncle Bucky?” _Jesus Christ, the four year old is giving me the shovel talk._

“I don’t know if Uncle Bucky wants to marry me. That’s important to know, before you marry someone.”

“Oh.” There’s a little crease between her eyebrows as she thinks. “I wasn’t in my mommy or daddy’s tummy when I was a baby.” 

_Oh._ “No, I think you were in someone else’s tummy.” 

She nods. “My other mommy. She had to leave because she loved us. That’s what Daddy says. I didn’t have another Daddy. Just now-Daddy. He says I had a different Daddy but that Daddy had to go away too. And then now-Daddy and now-Mommy saw pictures of us and they wanted us to come live with them.” 

Steve just nods, not sure what he could possibly say to this little girl who has already been through so much. 

“Are now-Daddy and now-Mommy going to leave too?” She has tears in her eyes, and suddenly Steve feels an overwhelming urge to _hurt_ everyone who has hurt this innocent child. But he knows that he _can’t_ do that, and it wouldn’t do any good anyway. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” He holds out his arms, and Kate--surprisingly--rushes towards them, allowing Steve to envelope her in his arms. “Your mommy and daddy love you so much. They’re going to stay with you as long as they possibly can. Till all of us, even you and Teddy, are old and have gray hair. And Uncle Bucky loves you, and I love you. We’ll never let anything happen to you, okay? You’re safe.”

Kate doesn’t let go of Steve for the rest of the night, even as they’re playing with Teddy and Bucky, or when Teddy goes to sleep and the remaining trio decides to watch a movie. Kate’s favorite is Robin Hood, the Disney version with the foxes. 

She falls asleep in Steve’s lap, her head curled against his chest. 

Bucky seems to be torn between offended and awed at Kate’s obvious acceptance of Steve. “I don’t know what you did. It took me weeks. _Weeks!_ of visiting. I had to bribe her with presents! And icecream! And I leave you two alone for an hour, and suddenly you’re best friends.” 

“What can I say?” Steve tries to shrug, but is stopped by the child in his lap. “We bonded over tea. I refilled the cups.” 

“She still doesn’t let me do that.” Bucky huffs. Steve has never wanted to kiss him more than he does right now. Playing with children, squabbling over unimportant trifles, watching an outdated children’s movie. Steve could get used to this. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 **From Bucky: So… you told me to let you know when my doctor appts are. Are you free Tuesday morning… 9:30?**

**To Bucky: Hell yeah I am. You want me to pick you up or?**

**From Bucky: We can just meet there? I google mapped the clinic and it’s kind of between us**

**To Bucky: Sounds good**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve is nervous. He’s never been to an omega clinic before, and he’s sure to get lots of weird looks. He knows that it’s not totally standard for alphas to go to prenatal visits. It _happens_ , but it’s not _expected_ , but he wants to be involved with Bucky and the baby in any way he can. If Bucky’s okay with Steve going to the appointments, Steve’s going to be there. 

He’d showered using an odor equalizer, so he doesn’t get any weird looks as he steps through the door. It takes him a few seconds to spot Bucky, sitting unobtrusively in the corner of the room. The omega looks nervous as well, which makes Steve feel better about his own anxiety. 

Bucky’s smile is soft as Steve approaches. “I thought something might have come up.” 

Steve grabs Bucky’s hand. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Buck. There was just some traffic.” 

“You’re sappy.” 

“I know.” 

They get a few stares as they wait, but Steve is determined to ignore them. Unbonded people have kids together _all the time_ , there’s nothing truly strange about their situation. People are just nosy. 

“James Barnes.” The nurse is wearing flowery rainbow scrubs. He is very obviously an omega, and though Steve feels bad, it comforts his inner overprotective alpha. 

He remains quiet as the nurse checks Bucky’s weight, temperature, and blood pressure. He tries not to blush as the nurse questions Bucky about his recent sexual history. 

The nurse leaves them with a smile. “Doc should be here in a couple of minutes. Y’all just hang tight.” 

“So not nearly as scary as you were imagining, huh?” 

Steve huffs dramatically. “Sure, for you. You didn’t have to be stared down by everyone in the waiting room.” 

“Oh yes,” Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. “Because being weighed by _another person_ is exactly how I wanted to spend my day.” 

“Aw, c’mon. You haven’t even really gained weight yet.” 

“Uh huh, tell that to my jeans. They’re already starting to get uncomfortable.”

It’s only a few minutes before doctor arrives. Steve almost gasps when he sees her. “Storm? I didn’t know you worked here.” 

She smiles. “It’s only been for the last 18 months or so. It’s been awhile since we’ve talked.”

“How’s T’Challa been?” 

She grimaces. “You’re probably better qualified to answer that question than I am these days.” 

Steve can feel himself turning red. _Jesus, no wonder it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other_. “Oh… I’m… I didn’t mean to…” 

Storm laughs, but it’s just slightly _off_ from how she would normally sound. “It’s fine. You didn’t mean anything by it.” She ruffles a few of the papers she had walked in carrying. “Now, let’s get to work, shall we?”

Steve spends the rest of the appointment trying to avoid making contact with the doctor. He feels like an idiot, and wants to forget this entire experience as quickly as humanly possible. Despite his embarrassment, the appointment goes faster than he had expected it to go.” 

“Did they really check anything at all?” Steve is more than a little taken back as they leave the building; he doesn’t really even notice the omegas sending him questioning looks. 

“It’s my second appointment, and nothing--luckily--has really changed since the first one. Don’t worry, we’ll have more complicated appointments down the road where you can watch them poke and prod at me for entirely too long. Personally, I’m _happy_ it was over quickly.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Steve agrees, still reluctant. 

“But speaking of things that are over now…” Bucky has a shiteating grin on his face. 

“Do we have to talk about this?” Bucky just raises an eyebrow in response. “Fine. T’Challa is this guy I used to work with a couple of years ago. Obviously we don’t work together anymore, but we still get together occasionally. He dated Storm--Doctor Ororo--for awhile, and I thought it was pretty serious. I guess they broke up, quite some time ago if I had to guess.” 

“That’s awkward.” Bucky motions towards a diner they’re passing.

Steve rolls his eyes as he nods. “Yeah, I didn’t notice.”

“Awww, c’mon. You’re making way bigger of a deal out of this than it warrants. Let’s stuff ourselves with pancakes and forget about it, yeah?” 

Steve shrugs as the slide into a booth. “I guess that sounds like a decent option.”

The waitress appears in a matter of seconds. “Can I help you fellas out?”

Bucky nods immediately. “Can I have a stack of pancakes, with strawberries and whipped cream?”

Bucky is beautiful when he smiles; Steve doesn’t see it often enough. It’s breathtaking, the way his eyes light up, like the person he’s talking about it the most important thing in the world. He can’t imagine what it would be like to--

“Steve? Are you going to order?” 

“Oh,” He can feel himself flushing… again. “I’ll have the same thing, thanks.” 

The waitress walks away with a smile on her face. Bucky looks almost worried. “You okay? You know the thing with the doctor was an honest mistake, right? She’s kind of a bitch anyway, so you shouldn’t even feel _that_ bad.”

“It’s not that at all. I’m completely fine. Excited even.” 

“About?”

“The baby. I think. Is that weird? I wasn’t sure I would _ever_ have kids, and now that… I know it’s probably weird, but… I’m happy.”

“Yeah?” Bucky’s smile is tentative, soft, like he’s not sure if he should even allow himself to smile. 

Steve’s never been so happy. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve, I don’t need you to walk me home. Believe it or not, I am a fully functioning human being.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “I never said that you weren’t a fully functioning human being. But unless it really bothers you, I want to walk you home. Think of it as a weird, Alpha, hindbrain kind of thing if that makes it better.” 

“Fine. But only because we’re only 10 minutes away.”

Steve wants to roll his eyes again, but he stops himself. Bucky is just whining because he’s not getting his way; he doesn’t really mean anything by it. He ignores Bucky’s pouting for several minutes, until it suddenly stops. 

“You know what sounds good?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “Ice cream.” He very unsubtly begins nudging Steve towards the ice cream shop at the corner of the street. 

“You’re a child.” 

“No,” Bucky counters. “I am _with_ child. There’s a difference. Now, c’mon. Maybe they’ll have rocky road.” 

They have rocky road. Bucky mocks Steve into getting a flavor other than vanilla, and then precedes to laugh even more when Steve picks chocolate. 

“They have like 30 flavors here. Are chocolate and vanilla really your go-tos?”

“Hey,” Steve shrugs. “I know what I like, and I stick to it.” That makes Bucky look up, his lighthearted smile morphing into a small frown and a creased forehead. Steve holds his gaze for a few seconds before Bucky looks away, blushing. 

They finish their ice cream in silence, walking along the street. Steve wants nothing more than to reach out and grab Bucky’s hand, but he knows it’s not a good idea. Bucky has been considerate enough to give Steve a chance at a place in their baby’s life. That doesn’t mean that he deserves a place in _Bucky’s_. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**To Bucky: Hey Riley wants to know if you can still come tonight. Nbd if something came up**

**From Bucky: I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I was told there would be dessert.**

**To Bucky: Riley is southern. Even the drinks will taste like dessert.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking with me through this. Hugs and kisses to all of you :))))))


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is getting repetitive in the notes, but I am awful. I made you wait entirely too long for this chapter. I lost count of how many times I restarted, and with that plus my insanely busy summer, it just took entirely too long. I apologize, but hopefully the slightly-longer-than-normal chapter makes up for it?

Riley has always enjoyed pointing out the things in Steve’s life that he is trying to blatantly ignore. Steve’s honestly not sure why he expected this time to be any different. As they sit on the couch of their apparent, Riley and Sam are both giving Steve what he likes to call their Very Disappointed Faces. Riley’s is especially guilt-inducing. 

“Steven, Sweetie. Are you trying to tell me that you went to a doctor appointment concerning _your baby and its other father_ , where you drove him home, and got ice cream, and you didn’t take the time to politely ask the man if you two were on a date?” 

“That may be sort of what…” 

“Steven Grant Rogers, don’t you rub your neck and blush all pretty. I’m not the type of person to find idiot to be an attractive look on _anybody_ , even you.” 

“Not what your life choices say about you.”

“Hey!” Sam interrupts from where he has his head in Riley’s lap.

“Babe,” Riley coos down at his boyfriend. “You know I love you.” He looks back at Steve. “And fine, there is an exception to every rule, and you sure as hell aren’t the exception to this one.” Sam’s eyebrows knit together as he realizes he may have played into that one a bit. 

“He isn’t interested in a relationship right now. He told me _numerous_ times. Every time he could _possibly_ bring it up. I’m not going to be the type of alpha that forces someone to be exclusive with them _just_ because they’re pregnant. He has a right to his own decisions, and I wouldn’t ever take that away from him.” 

“And that’s very mature of you.” Riley has mastered the art of the condescending smile. “But the exact wording on this could be very important to your future. You were an alpha he met through an organization that _sends out alphas_ , for all he knows you couldn’t been with omegas 2-3 weeks out of every month. You were off limits for any sort of permanent position in his life.”

“And?”

Riley rolls his eyes, muttering something that sounds vaguely like “alphas” and “ignorant, self-entitled, pricks,” though Steve can’t be sure.

“You’ve only ever dated people as an alpha, and that’s not your fault, but the dating game is _sketchy_ and _exhausting_ for an omega. Not only do we have to be examining our potential partner for the qualities we’re looking for, but we also have to be constantly aware of how we are acting ourselves in relation to how the relationship is structured. It’s awful.”

Steve sighs, understanding what Riley is saying but also somehow completely lost. “What does this have to do with his wording?”

As Riley takes a deep breath, Steve can see that the omega is clenching and unclenching his fist nervously. “ _I don’t have the desire to join the dating game_ has a slightly different meaning than _I don’t want to date you_ , at least in this case. If the pair of you had met at a bar, it would’ve been pretty much the same thing. But your situation is slightly more complex than that. You already know each other. I can’t read Bucky’s mind, but as an omega I think it’s much more comfortable to date someone who you’ve already built something of a friendship with.”

“But he still might not want to date me.”

“Yes,” Riley agrees. “But even if you’re 100%, _completely_ certain that he doesn’t want to date you, the pair of you need to talk about your relationship, and the boundaries you’ll need to set. Maybe you’re not ready to _date_ each other, but you don’t want to complicate things further by dating _other_ people. Pregnancy hormones, from what I understand, are crazy as fuck. Maybe he needs you physically right now, even if he’s not in a place where you can be together on a more intimate level. Maybe not. The point is, you need to _talk_.”

“Yes, Mother.” 

“Nope.” Sam interjects again from where he’d been silently playing with strands of Riley’s hair. “I’ve vetoed that nickname from all further conversations. In no way whatsoever do I agree to the possibility of Riley being a parental figure in your life. I will not be told ‘daddy’ jokes for the rest of our friendship. I straight out refuse.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t start, Rogers.” 

Steve waives his fingers quickly in a mock-salute, hoping beyond hope that neither of his friends will bring up his relationship status--or lack thereof--again. He has enough to worry about without their nagging. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**From Riley: Plz bring your baby papa over for food. We’ll both be home as early as 5:30, but don’t expect food til at least 7. Sam said six, but he was mentally budgeting for only distracting me twice while I’m cooking. I’m hoping for at least 4 times. We all know who has gotten his way in this household.**

**From Riley: If my subtlety was too subtle: that was my polite way of asking you to not arrive till at least 7. 7:15 if no one answers the door right away. You’re the best *kisses***

If Steve and his partner ( _any partner_ , he tells himself despite the lack of conviction even in his _thoughts_ at the idea of), are all over each other half as much as Sam and Riley are all over each other, Steve believes that he’ll be able to die a happy man. It’s crazy to think that Steve has really own known Riley the same amount of time he’s known Bucky, give or take a month or two. 

Speaking of…

**To Bucky: Riley wants us in between 7 and 7:15 for food. Wanna join me on a few errands first? And by errands I mean ice cream b4 we get to Riley’s just in case he decides to be adventurous with his meal again**

**From Bucky: You know, I’ve never been one to turn down ice cream.**

**To Bucky: Meet at yours at 5?**

Steve feels nervous as Bucky buzzes him into the apartment, though he couldn't pinpoint _why_ he's feeling that way. 

The scent of Bucky hits him just moments before the man himself does, practically climbing up Steve, hands grabbing and touching every accessible part of Steve's body. 

_Mate. Scent. Mine._ Are the only thoughts running through Steve’s head as he turns them around, pushing Bucky up again the door with a forceful shove, forceful enough that his head momentarily clears, but before he can ask Steve if he's alright, the omega moans loudly, baring his neck. This act drives the gathering thoughts straight out of Steve's head as he immediately shoves his nose and mouth against the omega’s neck, becoming almost drunk off of the scent as he smells and tastes every inch of skin he can reach. 

And that's when he realizes he can feel Bucky’s slightly protruding stomach. He immediately drops to his knees, scenting the rounded skin. It's intoxicating, and Bucky’s high pitched whine only serves to makes it more so. 

“Bed?” He finally asks. Bucky nods immediately. Steve lifts Bucky by his thighs, securely wrapping his legs around his own hips as Bucky gasps with surprise. 

“I'm too-”

“You're really not.” Steve interrupts as he slowly gets them closer to Bucky’s bedroom, having a hard time prioritizing between getting his omega in a bed as _quickly_ as possible while also _touching_ Bucky as much as possible. 

They finally make it there, Steve unceremoniously dropping Bucky onto the bed. “Clothes off. Now.” He orders as he begins stripping off his own. Bucky listened, and neither one even takes the time to tease, simply taking off clothes as quickly as possible with almost military precision. 

Steve hasn't seen Bucky naked in… three months and he had forgotten how beautiful the omega is, the slight baby bump serving to only make Bucky even more attractive. 

Steve wants to taste every inch of the omega, his skin tasting just as good as it smells. He only gets as far up as Bucky's thighs--studiously ignoring the beautiful scent coming from just inches above him--when Bucky whines loud and long. 

“Steve,” he keens. “In me. I need you in me _now_.” _Next time,_ his sex-addled brain supplies as he moves his way up to be face to face with Bucky. 

“Front or back?” He huffs, glad that Bucky seems to understand immediately, taking only a few seconds to consider before turning around, grabbing a couple of pillows to support his chest as he gets on his hands and knees. It's Steve's turn to whine at the sight, without making a conscious decision to, he licks a stripe up the wet heat of Bucky’s hole. Bucky moans before whining at the loss of contact as Steve holds back, allowing himself to appreciate the image for just a second longer. 

He takes two fingers and rubs against Bucky’s slick entrance teasingly. “In me Steve. _Now._ ” Steve chuckles as he pushes past Bucky's rim with both fingers, wanting to be sure that Bucky’s body will be ready for him. 

He's already stretched, feeling more like they're halfway through a regular heat than anything else, and Steve’s never been more grateful. He would be more than happy to open Bucky slowly, taking his time and coaxing the most amazing sounds out of the omega. But he doesn't know how much longer he'll last as it is. 

“Steve!” Bucky moans again, louder and more demanding this time. 

“Relax. I'm coming.” 

“You better fucking not be. I swear to god if-”

“Babe, it's an expression.” He lines himself up behind Bucky. “You need to relax-” 

“God, Steve, _GOD_!” As Steve pushes into Bucky with one smooth motion, it’s as if his entire being revolves completely around this one act. This is what Steve was put on this earth to do. Fuck Bucky until neither of them remember their own name. 

“You good?” He asked, worried that they're going to fast. 

“Shuddup. Move. I need-” Bucky seems to be struggling with putting complete thoughts together. Steve can relate. His voice already sounds far away and foggy. “Please, Steve. I need. Please.” 

That's all the more invitation that Steve needs, immediately beginning to thrust quickly with his hips. One of Bucky’s hands immediately fly to his own erection, but Steve grabs the hand. “Mine.” He growls, taking the hard length into his own hand and beginning to jack Bucky off in time with Steve’s thrusts. 

Steve gasps when he feel his knot beginning to form, something that usually only happens when an omega is in heat. “Bucky?” He gasps, trying to maintain a coherent thought while keeping his rhythm steady. “My knot. It's… what should I-” 

“In me, Steve. All of it. In me.” 

Steve worries for just a second longer, but Bucky’s bodies had prepared itself, and a copious amount of slick is covering both of their bodies, so no matter what kind of weird, hormonal things Bucky’s body is doing, they _should_ be safe. 

Steve’s knot begins catching on Bucky’s rim with every thrust of Steve's body, Bucky moaning with each movement. Steve’s mind seems capable of only one thought, _mine, mine, mine, mine, mine_. 

“Yours.” Bucky agrees, and Steve flushes what is probably a deep red, not aware that he had been saying the words aloud. 

“I'm close, Buck. So close.” He begins rubbing his hand possessively across Bucky’s stomach as he feels his orgasm inch closer and closer. 

He picks up the pace, hardly able to hear, let alone understand, the words that he knows are coming out of Bucky’s mouth. 

“C’mon Steve. Knot me.” He finally makes out the order, and that's all the more instruction he needs. His thrusts get harder and sloppier, he knot expanding just slightly after every movement. 

His knot fully expands and gets caught inside Bucky at the exact some moment he begins to come. Bucky practically screams with the feeling, his own orgasm following just seconds behind Steve's. 

They're both out of breath, Steve only _just_ having the presence of mind to keep himself from resting his entire weight against the omega. They breathe in tandem as they both come down from their respective highs. 

“Has that-” Bucky finally asks, still breathing heavily. “What was that?”

Steve can sense Bucky’s smile, even if he can't see it. “Pregnancy heat. They're… relatively common. Hormones are fucking weird.” 

“And has that happened… to you… before?” 

Bucky pauses, as if he has to think about what the correct answer to Steve’s yes or no question is. “Yes,” he finally replies. “It has.” 

“Well, I wish I would've been here.” He feels Bucky tense up, and worries that he had freaked the omega out. “For the heats.” He tacks on, hoping to salvage the good moment they had been having. 

“Yeah,” Bucky swallows. I wish you'd have been here too.” 

“How long do these kind of things last? Do I need to text Riley? I'm sure he would understand.” 

“No. I think it should be over. They'll probably be semi frequent over the next three months at least, but they should be short. I think.” 

“Well. For future reference… if you… I mean. I'd be. Willing. More than willing for.” 

“Don't hurt yourself, Steve. If I need a little help, I'll text you.” 

“Good.” Steve allows himself to bask in the warm afterglow. He's never been so thankful for his knot. He _knows_ Bucky wouldn't be allowing Steve to cuddle so close to him without the fact that they're literally stuck together. 

He wants to talk about this, see if Bucky is still _only_ interested in a physical relationship, or something more. He knows now wouldn't be a fair time though. If Bucky’s feeling anything like Steve is, his brain isn't quite functioning on all cylinders yet. They _do_ need to talk, but they need to be able to have a coherent conversation. Steve is tired of not being sure if they're on the same page, or even if they're in the same library. 

For now, he enjoys the act while he can, nonchalantly breathing in Bucky’s scent with every breath. He loves the way their scents intermingle, can't help but think about what they'd smell like bonded to each other. He tells himself it's his alpha hindbrain telling him these things, despite knowing that his feelings for Bucky are much deeper than the animal part of him. 

It doesn't last long enough. As soon as Steve’s knot begins to go down, Bucky immediately slides off of the bed, leaving Steve feeling cold and alone. 

“I'm going to hop in the shower.” For a second, Steve almost allows himself to hope that Bucky is going to ask Steve to join. But it's almost a strange repeat of the post-heat morning all of those months ago. Bucky jumps from post-coital bliss to almost a stranger in a manner of seconds. “You can go next. Don't want to meet your friends smelling like I just visited a brothel. Luckily we took our clothes off right away, but I think I have some extra-strength Febreeze up in a cabinet somewhere.” 

Steve ignores the overwhelming urge to pull Bucky back into bed and kiss him senseless. Anything to stop the unfamiliar tone to his voice, like they're back to square one, that first day when Bucky had only reluctantly told Steve his name. 

He ignores his alpha instinct to _show_ Bucky just how much he wants so much more than this. It's not just his decision, and their situation is much more complicated than most. They're having a baby. They're going to have to cooperate for at least another 18 years. They can't risk messing this up. 

So Steve gives himself the fifteen minutes while Bucky’s in the shower to relish in the scent of the sheets, to pretend that Bucky’s going to come out of the bathroom with a soft, blissful smile on his face, kiss Bucky on the cheek and maybe pinch his ass as he pushes Steve into the bathroom. That they'll go to Riley’s holding hands and laugh with his friends. Come back home giggling, not able to keep their hands off of each other, and go to bed cocooned in each other’s arms. 

He hears the water turn off and shakes each and every pleasant thought out of his head. He needs to prioritize. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve can tell that Bucky is nervous as they approach Riley’s apartment. He ignores his desire to place a reassuring hand on the omega’s shoulder. Bucky probably wouldn’t think anything of the gesture, friends do such things all the time, but Steve knows that he would feel guilty, as if he was taking advantage of his… whatever Bucky is to him. 

“They’re going to love you.” He tries to at least partially discard the worries he can see in Bucky’s eyes. “So whatever is making you anxious, it’s completely unwarranted. If anything, they’re going to tease the hell out of _me_.” 

“Right.” Steve can tell that Bucky isn’t completely relaxed, despite his nod. 

“Besides, even if Sam and Riley aren’t quite as… murder-y… as you’re used to, they’re pretty great.” 

Bucky’s smile seems moderately more genuine after that, as they take the stairs up to the apartment.

Steve has been more than slightly nervous about what kind of culinary experiments Riley was going to get up to, but as they step into the apartment, he’s affronted by what smells like… pizza. 

Riley blushes. “I had some meat thawing for lasagne but we got… distracted by a couple of things.”

“So I ordered pizza!” Sam carries the boxes into the sitting area that they consider the living room. “Figured we’d have a movie night.” 

Steve would be making fun of his friends for the fact that they _literally_ couldn’t stop having sex long enough to prepare food, but he knows that neither one would hesitate in turning the ridicule right back around to Steve. So he keeps his mouth shut. 

Sam scrolls through Netflix, ignoring each suggestion that comes out of any of the others’ mouths. He finally chooses what appears to be an obnoxiously awful action movie. Riley shrugs when he catches Steve’s eye, but Bucky seems interested enough. Sam and Bucky were already comparing the merits of the leading actor’s work on his previous blockbuster compared to the guest role he had filled on a tv show that both of them enjoyed. 

Riley fakes a shudder of disgust. “I am entirely too sober to sit through this, no matter how cute Sam’s face is when there’s an explosion.” He whispers to Steve. “Does Bucky care if the two of us have a drink or two?” 

Bucky seems to overhear Sam despite his whisper. “Feel free, but I’m not carrying Steve back to his flat. So don’t let him overdo it.” 

They make a drinking game out of it. The rules fluctuate as the movie progresses, and by the credits they’re mostly just taking drinks to annoy Sam. Bucky seems to be at least mildly entertained. 

It’s a good night, all in all. The pizza is fantastic and the movie is shitty, but the beer is actually pretty decent, especially by the time the movie is over. 

Riley seems to be feeling pretty good, having drank at least two for every one of Steve’s. “Bucky do you dance?”

The omega looks more than a little startled at the question. “I mean… I have…” 

Riley doesn’t really give him time to answer completely. “C’mon. I know you can. You can tell, it’s in the way you walk.” Riley drags Bucky across the apartment, muttering to himself as he flicks through the song choices on his phone. The internal debate is obvious on his face as he finally selects one. 

Even drunk, Riley is a pretty decent dancer, but he’s got nothing on Bucky. Even laughing and joking, the sway of Bucky’s hips to the beat of the song is hypnotic. Steve’s having trouble putting two thoughts together, let alone the ability to _talk_. He takes one last drink of his beer, more focused on watching the pair of dance. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Sam interrupts Steve’s thoughts. He only nods in response, still distracted by their dancing. “You know, I know that I’ve never been very encouraging when it comes to the possibility of you guys have a real relationship, but… after meeting him, seeing the way the pair of you act together… It could work between the two of you. I can feel it.”

“I…” Steve can feel himself flushing. “I’m working on it.” He kind of sort of lies. In his head, he’s working on it at least. 

“Just make sure you don’t wait too long. Bucky’s great, but even the greatest person won’t wait for you forever.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

“And if you take too long getting your shit together, and he finds someone else in the meantime, you’ll only have yourself to blame.” 

Steve just nods, trying to tamper down his misplaced jealousy towards a fucking _theoretical_ person. 

Steve walks Bucky up to his door, thankful that the omega doesn’t mention anything about it being unnecessary or odd. They talked the entire way home, through Steve can only recall bits and pieces of the conversation. It was trivial and relaxed and _perfect_. Steve can’t think of someone he’d rather have meaningless conversation with. 

They stop at Bucky’s door. 

“You know, I was worried. But I really like your friends. Sam was kind of quiet, but he seems nice. And you can tell that he cares about you. And Riley, he’s perfect. I’ve never met someone so…” 

“Loud?” Steve laughs. 

“Confident.” Bucky corrects, a shine in his eyes that Steve hasn’t seen before. 

“Bucky?” Steve steps closer as he looks deeper into the shine of the other man’s eyes. And maybe it’s the drinks, or what Sam was talking about, or the look in Bucky’s eyes, but suddenly Steve _knows_ he has to do this _now_.

He sweeps a strand of hair out of Bucky’s face like they’re in the middle of a rom-com, takes Bucky gently by the chin, doing everything slowly, giving Bucky ample time to tell him to stop, to tell him he’s got the wrong idea, and allows their lips to fall softly against each other. For what feels like a million years--though it was probably less than a second--Steve worries that Bucky is going to push him away, but then Bucky is kissing Steve back, still gently, as if each of them is scared the other is going to shatter under too much pressure. 

The kiss lasts seconds--or minutes or years. Steve can’t really be sure. He’s not sure who pulls away first, probably one of them figured breathing would be a good idea. 

“Buck-”

“Steve, I-” Bucky interrupts him. “I… I need time to think.” And without another word, Bucky shuts his door behind him, leaving Steve with a strange mixture of despair and hope. He hadn’t said yes, but he hadn’t said no either. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky hasn’t responded to Steve’s attempts at communication in over a week, which is more than slightly worrying. He had said that he needed time to think, but _how much_ time does the man need. At this point, Steve would just like to be put out of his misery. 

They had agreed on having dinner together-- _I guess there are some decisions we need to make about the… you know._ Bucky had looked down at his stomach--on their way home from Riley’s. Steve hadn’t heard from Bucky, but he hadn’t _cancelled_ either. 

Steve’s not quite prepared for what he finds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a cliff hanger, but hopefully a bunch of plot things will be resolved in the next chapter or two. I don't have a final chapter count yet, but we're definitely hitting the home stretch!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the absolutely horrendous wait for this. I wrote the bulk of it earlier, but then I moved to college (which is going fantastically!) but the first two weeks were so busy that I hardly had time to get homework done and make friends, let alone write. 
> 
> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER. THIS IS THE CLIMAX. IT SHOULD BE 99% HAPPINESS AND FLUFF IN ALL FURTHER CHAPTERS.

Bucky knows that he’s hyperventilating. He knows it, but the knowledge doesn’t help him _stop_. He can feel his hands shaking uncontrollably, can feel beads of sweat roll down his back. He can feel _everything_ , a sensory overload in the worst kind of way. He doesn’t even realize that he’s back into the corner of the room until he’s already sitting with his knees curled into his lap. 

_He was tall, that was the first thing Bucky had noticed. Before the short, dark hair or his perfectly tanned complexion or the way his once-broken nose gave his face character when on others it might have appeared as a flaw. He hadn’t smiled much, not even at the beginning._ Bucky should have noticed, even then. Goddamit. _But at first, it had been his height that had drawn Bucky in. Bucky was tall for an omega, and it wasn’t as if he necessarily liked tall alphas more than the shorter variety, but it always made the alphas more secure when they were at least the slightest bit taller than him. Im Bucky’s experience, secure alphas were a hell of a lot more fun._

_He had smiled then, though it had appeared just predatory enough to be sexy instead of creepy. Confident, that had been what Bucky had thought at the time._ Such a fucking idiot, even then. 

_”Care for a drink?” The man’s voice alone had almost sent Bucky to his knees, then and there in the middle of a crowded bar. It was deep and rough and Bucky had to consciously stop himself from bending his neck in submission before he had even spoken a word to the guy._

_“I’d care for a little more than a drink.” He had purred at the stranger. Bucky had just hit his sweet spot for the night, enough alcohol to make him overconfident, not enough to make him sloppy._

_The man hadn’t even batted an eyelid at Bucky’s come on, hardly even nodded. He had just turned around, obviously expecting Bucky to follow._

Bucky is an expert on relationships moving ‘too fast.’ Every relationship he’s ever had has been that way. It annoyed his family to no end in high school, but it has always been something beyond Bucky’s control. He falls hard and fast and deep. It’s scared more than one of his significant others over the years away. 

Brock hadn’t been like that, and maybe that fact alone should have been a red light. 

_Bucky had never felt so completely in love in his life. He was used to his partners being uncomfortable with his adoration, not quite ready for the speed or strength of Bucky’s feelings. Brock had not only been comfortable with them, he had encouraged them. Even that first night, which Bucky has only the haziest of recollections of, he had obviously loved the way Bucky chanted his name with each thrust of the alpha’s hips._

_The alpha was never overly affectionate himself, but Bucky had known that he cared, in his own way. He had explained to his friends over and over again._ “He loves me, he just has his own way of showing it.” Often, he had clandestinely rubbed his hands over the lovebites Brock loved to leave all over his body as he argued against his worried friends, Bucky remembers. _Their relationship had moved quickly, more quickly than even Bucky was comfortable with at times._

_They were moved in together before they had been together--known each other--three months. Bucky’s best friend had cried about it, but Bucky had known. Brock was the one for him, they were perfect for each other, and Bucky didn’t care if no one else understood._ Such an idiot. 

_Brock wouldn’t bite him, wouldn’t claim him, and it was the only thing they ever really fought about. Bucky was ready for commitment, and he thought Brock was too. But the alpha seemed reluctant, as if a bite on Bucky’s shoulder, the intermingling of their scents, would change anything._

_That first heat--the only heat--they spent together Bucky had begged for Brock to bond with him._ Fucking cried about it, fucking omega hormones. _Brock had refused, point blank._

_Brock had not refused when Bucky had told him he didn’t have to wear a condom, though if Bucky remembers correctly--though his memory is spotty even during his most coherent memories of his heat--the condom thing had been contingent on Brock bonding with him._

_It was two months after Bucky’s heat that he found out he was pregnant._

_He was excited, ecstatic, when he found out, lining up three different positive tests end-to-end on the bathroom counter. Brock would be excited--weren’t they always, when their virality was confirmed in the most obvious way?--and then Brock would bond with him, and they would be together forever and ever. A happy ending._ Idiot. __

_“You’re **what**?” Brock’s tone had shocked the smile right off of Bucky’s face. _

_“Pregnant.” He had whispered, with all of the strength of the last breath of air in a deflated balloon._

_“And you **want** to keep it?” His voice had been scathing. _

_Bucky had put a hand over his stomach protectively. “Yes. It’s… it’s us. Together.”_

_Something in Bucky’s voice must have warned Brock that he was close to a very firm line that even Bucky had been unaware he had. “Oh,” Brock’s voice had gone soft then. “Sweetheart,” Even then, Bucky had melted at the term of endearment. Brock so rarely used them. “I didn’t know that this was something you wanted. Of course we’ll keep it.”_

_Bucky had worried, in that first moment, that Brock wouldn’t feel any sort of bond with their child, the annoyed look in his eyes at the very thought of a baby, but after just a day or two Brock began to show signs of what Bucky had assumed was paternal instincts._

_He started being even more possessive, marking Bucky in increasingly obvious places--though nothing permanent, much to Bucky’s annoyance--and started worrying more when Bucky left the house. Brock, who had a decent job and a lucrative trust fund, convinced Bucky to quit the temp agency he had been working for, citing that being around so many strangers could be dangerous._

_Bucky had never felt so loved, so cared for._ As if he had been cared for at all. 

_In Bucky’s mind, the only thing that suffered was their sex life. Brock would surely have disagreed. **He** had never gotten off so regularly in his life. At least twice, sometimes more, every day he would suddenly become overcome with passion for the pregnant omega, but he had somehow decided that anything but the quickest sex would tire Bucky and harm the baby. Bucky lost count of the amount of times he had been minutes away from a climax when Brock finished, leaving Bucky--literally--to take care of himself. _

_As Bucky’s stomach continued to expand, Brock seemed to be disgusted by it, so he didn’t even have the satisfaction of **looking** at his alpha as he was practically used as an animate sex toy._

The worst part, Bucky decides, is that I thought I was happy. So happy, at the very peak of existence. 

_They had been slowly buying everything Bucky could imagine a baby needing, a crib and onesies and pacifiers and tiny little diapers. He had cooed over everything little thing. Frank had rolled his eyes, occasionally making fun of how much of an omega Bucky really was. Sometimes he had seemed almost angry about it, as if Bucky was always supposed to be the guy who had got into the back of a taxi with a man whose name he didn’t even know, with no desires beyond a night of really good sex._

_Even then, Brock had begun to spend more and more time at work, more time with his friends. Sometimes he wouldn’t even admit to Bucky what he had been out doing, always smelling freshly-showered. He never demanded that Bucky bend over for him when he smelled like that, acted too tired to fuck tonight. Bucky pretended that he wasn’t suspicious, continued to play the doting omega even when his alpha smelled faintly of someone else._

_He wanted to whine, complain to someone. And that’s when he realized that he didn’t really have anyone to complain to. It had been months since he had talked to his sister or aunt, let alone his friends from his old jobs or school. The only person he had talked to in months beside Brock were Brock’s friends, a skeevy group of people that he was willing to admit even then that he didn’t trust. When they went out, to get groceries or an occasional night out, Frank did the talking. Bucky played omega, staring dreamily at his alpha as he ordered others around._ And the feelings had still been there. I loved him, Bucky spits at himself. 

_Bucky was six months along when the bleeding started. Spotting can be normal while pregnant, but he knew as soon as he woke up that morning that something was wrong._

_“Brock?” He'd immediately started shaking his boyfriend awake. “Brock, there's something wrong.”_

_Brock had try to wave him off at first, but as soon as the scent of blood hit his senses, it seemed as if they were rushing out the door on the way to the hospital._

_The emergency room visit is a blur in Bucky’s memory. He remembers the sterile smell of the waiting room, the gentle hands of nurses, a doctor who refused to smile. He remembers breaking down, unable to control the flow of tears._

_Brock had stormed out somewhere amongst the explanations, or lack of explanations._

_“It could have been a genetic disorder that wasn't detectable through a sonogram. This was relatively late for such an occurrence, and we won't know until tests are done on the tissue, but…”_

_The doctor had rambled on, and Bucky had sat there, alone. Completely alone, for the first time in six months._

_The doctor had looked apologetic as she described the procedure that would make sure there was nothing dangerous floating around in his body. “Almost all people who experience something like this are later able to carry a healthy child to full term.” Bucky vaguely remembers nodding as she carried on, listing statistics that she probably believed we comforting._

_Bucky just wanted his baby back._

It was a boy, though Bucky had decided not to name him. It might help his grieving process, the psychologist from the hospital had told him, but Bucky refused. He didn't want to be reminded every time he happened across his baby’s name. He had never thought he would envy those who experience a miscarriage, but a small part of him was. Miscarriages are before 20 weeks, but most happen in the first 7 weeks. Some people haven't even realized that they're pregnant when it happens. 

He feels guilty, acknowledging the fact that it would have been easier if would have happened sooner. But it _would have been easier_ dammit. 

_Bucky didn't see Brock for a week. He's not sure where the alpha had gone. Messages went unanswered, but that didn't stop Bucky from leaving them. Over and over again. He was drunk for most of them, and doesn't like to imagine what they sounded like. Probably mostly half-coherent pleas to come back, though he likes to think that at least a couple of them had been angry._

_But he hasn't been angry at Brock, not really. It wasn't Brock’s fault, not in his mind. Brock’s body hadn't caused the mess they were in. If Bucky would've taken better care of himself, if he had been more prepared then…_

_When Brock came back, he hadn't even tried to wash the smell off of himself. Waves of alcohol and omega rolled off of him. He was drunk, Bucky would've been able to tell from the sneer on his face even without smell._

_Not that Bucky could really blame him, at least not for the alcohol. He'd been self medicating for most of the week. He should have been mad about the other omegas. He wasn't. He'd accepted months ago that Brock wasn't going to be faithful, he'd wrote it off as something he had to settle for._

_When he had rushed towards the alpha, craving nothing more than the strength of Brock’s arms around him, Brock had pushed him away._

_“I can't stand the thought of touching you.”_

_Their relationship had been volatile at the best of times, but that's when the intensity had skyrocketed. Brock would come home smelling of alcohol and fuck him --fast and rough and with as little actual touching as possible-- or he would come home smelling of alcohol and omegas and leave Bucky alone. Bucky got to the point where he didn't know which he preferred._

_And Brock got more violent in other ways as well. Never outright physically abusive, not in Bucky's head at the time, but he took to manhandling Bucky in ways he wasn't comfortable with. It got to the point where he couldn't leave the house in anything but long sleeves for the bruises_ \--accidental, he had told himself-- _along his arms._

_And right at that time, his first heat post-pregnancy had hit._

_Brock was already gone for work when it started, and Bucky had known that calling him to come home wouldn't do any good. So he waited. Brock had forced him to throw out all of his toys months ago, and so he had to satisfy himself using only his fingers, never really feeling like they were enough._

_When Brock finally returned, Bucky had whined at the sound of the door opening._

_The alpha took one look at him and left again._

_It was four days of intense need later, when Bucky was just starting to feel like a person instead of an empty hole, when there was a knock at the door._

_The woman who walked in, without Bucky opening the door, was tall and intimidating. She looked at Bucky with the disdain that only betas seem to be able to give an omega in heat. Omegas typically sympathize. Alphas tend to be too distracted to judge. Betas, without any personal connection to the heat cycle, tend to judge those affected. Sometimes harshly._

_“Did Brock give you a key?” Even then, Bucky could hear the hope in his voice, and he hated himself for it._

_She had sniffed. “I own the building, I have a key to every apartment.”_

_Bucky could feel the color drain from his face. “I’m… was there a complaint? I didn't-”_

_“I am also Brock’s mother.” Bucky had been vaguely aware that he was shaking, though he wasn't quite sure of the reason behind it. “We've been out of the country for quite some time now, and had not been aware of your… situation.”_

_He felt her eye the exposed bruises on his arms, only now turning yellow after all of the days apart. He wasn't sure what he expected as a reaction, but her continued cold glare didn't exactly surprise him._

_“Is he. Is he okay?”_

_“He is moving. We're taking him to our home in California for… some much needed rest.”_

_“Oh.” That had all he had been able to say, his whole chest feeling empty._

_“I appreciate the fact that this has not been… easy for you. Movers will be by shortly to pack up my son’s possessions. You, on the other hand, are more than welcome to remain living here for as long as you'd like.”_

_“Oh, there's no way… the rent on this place is slightly above my pay grade.” He had laughed without humor. He didn't actually have a pay grade at the moment._

_“Consider it rent controlled at exactly what you're paying now. Provided nothing… tarnishing is released about my son. He may have some minor flaws that he needs help with, but we still have high hopes for him. My husband has always dreamed of the boy going into politics, we can't have a few poor decisions ruining that, now can we?”_

_Bucky didn't know what to say, his body and mind both overwhelmed by the combination of their conversation and his slowly fading heat symptoms._

He's pretty sure that he nodded. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's not sure which parts of the story he spoke aloud and which parts were simply memories flashing through his head, but he can see that Steve knows at least some of the things that happened by his facial expression alone. 

He doesn't remember letting the alpha in, but he must have opened the door. He doesn't remember cuddling into the alpha's chest either, but that's probably been a recent development as well. 

“Don't leave me?” It comes out a question. And he's not even sure himself of what it means. 

Steve takes it in stride though, not hesitating with his answer. “I'll be here as long as you need me, Buck. I promise.” 

For the first time in quite a while, Bucky feels safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to do some planning, but I'm guessing only one or two more chapters! Depending on that, I could definitely be open to the idea of several oneshots covering (almost) anything you guys are interested in. Fluff or porn (or even angst? Do people read angsty one shots???)


End file.
